The Day the Music Died
by RaptorSaysRawr
Summary: When Annie Holloway walked away all of those years ago, Paul McCartney thought she was gone for good. Now that the Beatles are at the height of their career what will happen when she returns, all grown up and charming? Paul is in for a rude awakening.
1. The Beginning

**Author's Note: ****Hey howdy hey :) Ever since I stumbled across the ATU archive (mostly the stories that really aren't even about the movie) I've been inspired to write a Beatles fic! And this is the product of that inspiration. This is just sort of a background for the story and I promise the following chapters won't be as short as this. So yeah, please read and tell me what you think!  
xoxo  
PS I know the title has nothing to do with the Beatles but it's from one of my fave songs, and it's tentative. Can you guess where it's from? ;)_

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_**31 December 1959**_

She was walking towards him ever so slowly, as if she was teasing him, toying with his emotions. A small smile graced her delicate features as she straightened the little black dress she knew he adored.

"Hiya Paulie," she breathed once she was a reasonable distance from him.

He smiled too, wondering what on earth she was up to.

"I didn't think you would come, what with your new friend John over and all," she trailed off, gesturing vaguely towards his house a little ways away.

"That wouldn't stop me from seeing you," he assured her, making her grin brilliantly. "What was it you wanted to speak to me about?"

Her grin faltered a bit but she kept it in place. He made no notice. He did, however, see a slight change in her usually overconfident demeanor. For a minute or two she refused to look him in the eye, instead glancing at the paved road beneath their feet or the twinkling stars in the distance behind him. Finally she mustered up all of her courage and faced him head on.

"Look," she sighed. "We've been friends for a while now and I greatly appreciate that. I honestly don't know what I'd do without you."

"How would you get on without someone as devilishly handsome as me?"

"Oh, stop it." She swatted his arm, the corners of her mouth tugging up slightly. "What I mean to say is," here her voice lowered so much he had to strain to hear. "I know I'm not perfect, but you could at least give me a chance."

"What are you talking about, love?" he asked, sincerely confused. Her vivid green eyes were dancing with whatever emotion she was hiding. He absentmindedly pushed a stray lock of fierce red hair out of her face. At that moment she was thankful for the cover of night to conceal the blush creeping up her pale freckled skin.

She fidgeted nervously with the thick buttons on her short cream-colored cardigan. "Paul…Jimmy," she smiled with the use of the name he only ever allowed her to say. "I understand you've got hordes of birds throwing themselves at you now that you're making something out of yourself with your music. I get that you have millions of choices…but I want you to choose me," she suddenly blurted out.

Paul was speechless. "I don't know what to say, love."

"Say yes?"

When she called him almost ten minutes ago he had not expected this. She told him she had something important to tell him and she would meet him outside of his house but he had no idea she was interested in something more than friendship. And here he was thinking he could simply go back to enjoying the New Year's festivities with his _friend_. But he knew no matter what he said she would no longer be that.

"Paulie I…I've been in love with you for a long time now and I'm not sure I can stop," she whispered, not looking at him again.

"I don't think I can," he responded without truly meaning to.

Her eyes flicked towards him, now alive with other emotions. "Why not?"

"You're not right for me."

Those eyes, those beautiful eyes he found himself staring into for the last few years displayed her hurt and immediately flashed to show her rage. She stood to her full height, which wasn't very much, and faced him defiantly with her arms crossed. Her hair billowed menacingly around her in the late night breeze.

He remembered telling her how much she looked like her mother when she was angry, which was a lot with him. Irene was an Irish immigrant who married the man who lived across the street from Paul, which is how he met her. She was a few years younger than him but she was able to keep up with him and his older friends, like George. She would always force her presence on them but after a while no one seemed to mind. After a while she became his best friend.

"Annie, you're like me sister!"

"Sister?" she spat. She adopted her father's rough Liverpudlian accent, which became even more pronounced in her anger. Somehow coming from her it sounded almost angelic, which was another thing he loved about her. "What about when you kissed me last summer? Is that what you'd do if you had a sister? Snog her?"

"I was completely blitzed then!" That wasn't necessarily true but he wasn't going to admit that now.

"Is that so? Cause I heard from George you were bragging about it the next day to all your little Teddy boy friends!"

"That's not fair, Annie." He ran a hand through his gelled hair and tugged his leather jacket tighter around him. From the shouts and laughter coming from the houses besides them he knew the final minutes of the year were upon them.

"You know what's not fair? Me spilling my guts to you and you rejecting me! You _know_ you see me as more than a friend Jimmy, why are you denying it?" she cried in frustration.

"I'm not denying anything! I could have any bird in this whole fucking city, why would I want you?" The moment the words slipped from his lips he regretted it. Everything she said was true. He didn't believe she wasn't right for him. He just needed her to see _he_ wasn't right for _her_.

If looks could kill he would be six feet under right now. Her hands were clenched in tight fists at her side as she glared at him, every nasty thought she had emanating from her body. "James Paul McCartney I fucking hate you!"

"_Ten, nine, eight…_"

She stormed past him, purposely bumping into his shoulder.

"Annie, wait!" He made to grab for her but she lurched away, not wanting to be contaminated by his vulgar presence.

"Piss off. I never want to see your slimy face again, McCartney."

"_…three, two, one! Happy New Year!_"

What a happy one indeed. Paul watched as his best friend, his sister, walked out of his life forever.

Or so he thought.


	2. The Reunion

**Author's Note: Can I say that listening to a song sung by Sir Paul makes me swoon and squeal like a little girl? Particularly All My Loving. Now that that's been said might I also say (this has nothing to do with the previous statement but I'll say it anyway) you guys are friggin amazing! Huge thanks to Wribbet, Eliza March, An-Outlaw-A-Lady, and Hoshi Nagaiki for your lovely reviews! Also another thanks to Wribbet for favoriting and adding to your story alerts, and sevANDfred4EVER for adding to story alerts too :) Getting those emails...MY DAY=MADE. Haha so here's the next chapter! I'm not sure how accurate some of the facts are and in case anyone is wondering the school I referred to is Flagler in St. Augustine and I would really love to go there. Definitely one of the prettiest cities/schools I've ever seen. Kay I'm done ranting. Read on! :D**

_**1964 February**_

Paul leaned casually against the bar, a flute of champagne hanging limply in his hand. His eyes scanned the crowd searching for someone to save him from his ever persisting boredom. A flighty blond approached him, practically brimming with imaginative confidence, but when he smiled at her she squealed and hastily spun around.

With a sad shake of his head he downed the rest of the bubbly alcohol and pushed away from the bar. He was currently at some swanky party Brian Epstein insisted on hosting in celebration of the success of the lads' latest single. Normally Paul would have been positively thrilled and soaked up the limelight, which he often did with the new popularity of The Beatles. But not tonight. Right now something was missing and he couldn't quite place his finger on it.

He walked through the crowd, throwing the occasional smile and wink to anyone that looked his way. People congratulated him, thanked him (for what he wasn't sure of), praised him; suddenly, it was all a bit much. Politely excusing himself from the stuffy atmosphere he slipped out of the door onto the porch where one of his best mates, George Harrison, was leaning against the wall staring out into the starry night.

"This party's a drag, yeah?" he asked aloud.

"Definitely," Paul agreed, lighting a cigarette. "I'd be perfectly content hanging at home with Jane instead of this rubbish."

"How's that going for you?"

He smiled. "Pretty good I suppose. She's a great gal."

"She seems it."

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. The door opened abruptly, startling them both.

"What, may I ask, are you two doing here?"

Their manager raised an accusing eyebrow. He was peeved, that much was obvious. The boys he practically molded into the stars they were today were hiding and the least they could do in return was attend a silly little party. It wasn't too much to ask for, honestly.

"We're only taking a smoke break, relax Brian," Paul told him, putting out the cigarette as he spoke. He sighed and straightened his tie before following the man back into the crowd, George at his heels.

"Look, there's Johnnie and Ringo," George pointed directly in front of them where the remainder of the group lingered talking to a bunch of people he neither knew nor cared for.

"Look what the cat dragged back in," John said pointedly as they approached.

"Very funny, Lennon." Brian didn't find it funny at all. "Listen I need you all to behave and at least _try_ to act like you're having fun."

"What're you talking about, we're having loads of fun," Ringo said sarcastically. "This party is really gear, don't you think lads?"

"Oh yeah, totally," they all mumbled unenthusiastically. Brian sighed and left them to their moping.

"Lads, I know just the thing we need," John informed them, a bit of a mischievous glint in his dark eyes.

"What's that?" asked Paul.

"Check out the talent." He gestured towards a group of girls eyeing them lustfully.

"John Lennon, I am shocked and appalled!" Paul exclaimed in mock horror.

"But not completely surprised," George added with a snort.

"Shall we?" Ringo asked, rubbing his hands together excitedly.

Paul was about to respond when he heard it. He stiffened and the others watched him curiously.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" asked John, his attention shifting from his friend to the girls flashing a daunting come-hither smile. Oh how much he longed to answer those looks with something more than his signature smirk.

Paul looked around warily. That laugh had sounded so familiar, so close to home. It hit his heart with a pang and dread filled him as he searched for the source. As if knowing something he didn't his eyes landed on the middle of the room. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, the crowd parted, and there, right smack in the center of it all was…

"Annie?"

The girl lifted her bright green eyes to stare at him inquisitively before recognition set in.

"Jimmy!"

She rushed forward, throwing her arms around him. Her lips grazed both of his cheeks, his forehead, and the tip of his nose, a ritual she performed every time she saw him. That was before she went away, of course.

"It's been too long!" she exclaimed happily. "You don't even look like my Jimmy anymore."

"Who do I look like then?"

She was thoughtful for a moment then smiled. "You look like Paul."

He wanted to smile along with her but something held him back. "Annie, what are you doing here?"

There was that stubborn Irish nature he remembered. "What, did you only expect four young lads from Liverpool to be here? I was invited, you know."

That surprised him. "But I thought you were gone!"

"I've been back in England for a few weeks now."

"Who's the chick?" asked John as he and the boys approached Paul and Annie.

"Guys, this is—" he began, with the intention of making an introduction. Of course she beat him to the punch.

"Annie Holloway," she said, extending her hand with a smile. "A pleasure to meet you."

"John Lennon," said John, taking her hand and giving it a kiss. "The pleasure is all mine." He was impressed when she did not blush at his actions.

"George Harrison." George followed John's lead.

She gazed at him quizzically. "You don't remember me?"

"Should I, Red?"

With a smirk and the slight raise of an eyebrow she nodded. "Very good." George was stunned into silence as she turned to the last Beatle.

"Ringo Starr, at your service!" He made an elaborate show of bowing to her before kissing her hand, earning a giggle.

"Charmed, absolutely charmed!"

"Aye, budge up Rich," John sniped, pushing his friend aside. "Care to dance my lady?" He offered Annie his arm, which she graciously took.

"Of course."

The remaining three watched as they worked their way to the makeshift dance floor and were enveloped by the crowd.

"What's the story on her?" Ringo asked after a minute of awkward silence.

"Yeah, that's one bird I wouldn't mind getting to know better, if you know what I mean." George waggled his brows suggestively and Ringo laughed.

Paul, on the other hand, was slightly revolted. "You honestly don't remember her, George?"

"What's with the questions today?"

"She was me best mate, way before I met you! Remember the girl who used to follow us around after school and tried to fight you the one time you said something nasty about her mum and would take the beer we pilfered from some poor bloke's parents and—"

"_Little Red?_" George asked, incredulous.

"The very one," Paul responded, nodding smartly.

Ringo frowned. "I don't follow."

"Annie used to live a few houses down from me growing up and we'd hang out every now and then," Paul explained. "She was like a sister to me and after a while we were practically inseparable."

"By the looks of it Little Red isn't so little anymore."

"Definitely not," Paul and George said simultaneously.

"What happened to her?" asked George.

"She went to school in America or something for a few years. Haven't seen hide nor tail of her since before the sixties."

An impish smile spread across George's face. "Well she's here now. And in that tight fitting green dress, I might add. Excuse me while I wrestle her away from Johnnie Boy."

He worked his way through the throng of people where he knew John and Annie were. The other two simply stared off after him.

"How do you feel about that?" Ringo asked after more silence.

"About what?" Paul countered stupidly.

"Your mates trying to seduce your other mate."

"I don't feel a thing."

"Liar."

Paul glared at Ringo. Was he really that easy to see through? Did the older man truly know there was a monster trying to claw its way out of his heart and attack the two bastards who dare lay eyes on Annie? He couldn't know. After all Paul didn't quite know himself.

"So what exactly happened between you two that made you stop corresponding?" Ringo asked as they made their way around the room, picking up more champagne on the way.

Paul sipped his drink carefully, wondering if he should say anything at all. "The last time I saw her she…she told me she loved me."

"Ah."

"And I told her I didn't want her."

"I see."

"Do you, now?"

"Mhm. Continue."

"There's not much more to it. She basically told me to fuck off and she never wanted to see me again. With those words she left and I never saw her until now."

"She seems alright, though."

"She does."

Their circuit stopped once they caught sight of the other half of the group. George and John were bickering over something and Annie stood between them, her head cocked to the side watching them with a look caught between amused and irked on her face. She really was a sight. The long-sleeved green dress she wore that ended mid thigh truly enriched the emerald color of her eyes and accentuated her long auburn hair. Not like Paul noticed any of that, though. Of course Ringo knew better.

"Hello, hello!" Ringo called happily. His friends immediately quieted but continued their little spat when they saw it was no one important.

"What's their problem?" Paul asked Annie.

"They don't like sharing apparently," she giggled.

"Alls I'm saying is you had her for the last ten minutes!" George was saying. "I'd say I deserve a turn."

"Yeah but you had your chance even before now!" John fired back.

"Why don't we ask her? Who do you want to dance with Little Red?"

Annie's face darkened. "I truly hate it when you call me that."

"So then I guess the answer is me." John reached for her hand but she pulled back.

"Not that this little lover's quarrel wasn't entertaining and all (which it really wasn't) but I'm going to choose someone else."

"Who?" They demanded.

"Jimmy," she answered simply.

"Jimmy?" George, John, and Ringo asked in confusion.

"Me." Paul couldn't hide the smirk now plastered on his face.

"You?" the three asked yet again.

Annie merely rolled her eyes and dragged Paul away. She placed his hands on her waist and crossed her own behind his neck. Her nimble fingers wove themselves into his hair as they rotated slowly to a less upbeat song. Hazel eyes locked on emerald green ones, never breaking contact. Silence consumed their little personal bubble but it wasn't awkward. Things were never awkward between the two, not even after their falling out all of those years ago.

"So what have you been up to Mr. McCartney?" she inquired quietly, then added, "Other than the obvious, of course."

Paul smiled faintly. "Pretty much that, nothing more really."

"How boring."

"Not really. I've loved every minute of it."

"Sounds like something you would say."

They continued their slow dance, even after one of The Beatles' fast paced songs began playing.

"Where've you been all this time, Annie?"

"America."

"More specific please?"

"Florida."

"What for?"

"School."

"I don't like these one word answers."

"Hmm."

"Annie."

She sighed and rested her head against his chest. "I went to this fancy liberal arts school in St. Augustine. Got a degree for me writing if you must know."

"That's wonderful!"

"I guess."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"It is, yeah. Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't have gone overseas to do it, though."

He was about to say something, question her motives behind the long distance move, when they were interrupted.

"Annie, darling, so glad you could make it!"

She pulled away from Paul and smiled at the man beside them. "Mr. Epstein! Thank you for inviting me."

"Not a problem, dear girl. Enjoying yourself?"

"Yes, of course, thanks."

Paul was baffled. "You two know each other?"

"I used to help out in his record shop all the time when I was younger," Annie clarified.

"Yes, and George Martin insisted on me inviting her as well," Brian added.

"Why's that?"

Brian glanced at Paul as if he were an imbecile. "She's his niece."

"You're kidding!"

"Only through marriage, though," Annie amended. "He's mum's sister's husband."

"How strange."

A clock chimed midnight somewhere in the house.

"Oh shoot, I better go."

"Why, is your carriage turning into a pumpkin as we speak?" Paul joked.

She threw back her head and laughed. It made his stomach squirm. "Aren't you a funny lad? But no, I promised me friend I'd call her but what with the time change I always lose track of when I'm supposed to do that…" she trailed off, realizing she wasn't really making much sense to him. "I just have to go."

He nodded and mentally prepared himself to see her walk away from him again. But there was something he just had to know. "Wait, Annie?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll see you again, right?"

She blinked slowly, processing his words. "Yeah, I'd like that."

A sigh of relief left his full lips. "Alright, good."

She smiled, albeit a little sadly, but a smile nonetheless. "It was really great seeing you again Paulie."

"Yeah, you too."

"See ya' round. Bye boys!" She bid farewell to his three friends who loudly responded and waved eagerly.

Without knowing the impact and strange sense of déjà vu this seemingly harmless departure had on a certain hazel eyed young man Annie maneuvered her way through the crowd and left the celebration party without looking back.


	3. The Revenge

**Author's Note: As I write this chapter (send my love to you) [sorry bout that] I'm listening to the ever so lovely Buddy Holly :) Particularly It Doesn't Matter Anymore. Definitely a favorite of mine. Just thought I'd share that with all of my amazing readers :D Kay so lots of love and thanks to Hoshi Nagaiki, Eliza March, Wribbet, and meggieleigh for reviewing (and favoriting in Meggie's case :))! And I throw the same thanks and such to hellbutterfly421 (awesome name btw!), CeciliaAlice, and Betty Flamingo for adding to your alerts! You all truly make my day and inspire me to continue writing this! Thank you times a billion :)**

**I've got a bit more rambling to do before I present you with this shiny new chapter. So I have a few questions that require answers from you lovelies. I have a general idea of where I want this story to go but I was wondering if A) there's anything in particular you'd like to see B) if you'd like if I wrote little memories of Annie and Paul's childhood and C) if there's any special person's viewpoint you'd like to see, besides Annie and Paul of course. I'm going to do a Georgie chapter later but if there's anyone else let me know! Update will most likely happen tomorrow cause I like to do 2 every weekend. Makes me feel productive ;D Mmm think that's it. So without further ado I give you...The Beatles!**

**PS (Yeah, I'm still here!) Credit to the line about revenge goes to Wribbet, AKA Rebecca, cause she's so awesome and comes up with these crazy yet really amazing lines! :D  
PPS I've noticed I use a lot of exclamation points and smilies in these notes. Guess I'm just a happy person! :)**

**And now, really, The Beatles!**

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Sighing, Paul ran his hands through his hair. He and the lads were currently cranking out the tunes at Abbey Road studio. It was always an interesting process, one that typically got him excited. The feeling he got after writing the words to a potential hit and the intense euphoria he got when his fingers flowed against the neck of his guitar making the song come alive were what drove him to become a musician. It was just too good a thing to pass up.

Now, however, he didn't feel much like music playing. He constantly muffed up chords and notes that were second nature to him. Every time he made a mistake Brian insisted they start all over with the recording again. George and John were becoming increasingly frustrated. Ringo, always the peace maker, tried to get them to lay off but just because he was the oldest didn't mean they would listen to him.

"God damn it Paul, what the fuck is your problem?" John demanded after they had been working on a song for three hours. Staying cooped up in a recording studio all day wasn't exactly his idea of fun. There were a million other things he could be doing right now, like shagging his wife. Or some bird who wasn't his wife.

"Nothing," Paul grumbled, slightly embarrassed. He picked up his bass and tried the different chords but again they came out sounding like someone banged the strings with a hammer.

"That's certainly not the way it's supposed to go," George sighed, effortlessly plucking the _right_ chords on his guitar.

"I know that," Paul snapped.

"No need to get testy."

"We're not the ones screwing up here, Paul," John said in a quiet, yet terrifying tone. "At this rate we won't have this bloody record done for that fucking movie they're going to make us suffer through. Is that your plan? Make us look like fools?"

"I said I'm sorry, John! What more do you want from me?"

"To get the chords right, you prick!"

"That's enough!" George Martin shouted through the microphone in his booth. "You all are going to take a break and when you return you will get this damned thing right without any arguing. Do you understand?" They nodded. "Good. Be back here in ten minutes. No more, no less."

Paul didn't bother getting up. He stared after the others, a perfect picture of a morose youth. He wasn't quite sure why he was messing up so bad. It's not as if he did it on purpose. Usually he was one of the best performers here, if he may so himself. But ever since _she_ blew back into his life things weren't the same. No matter how hard he tried his thoughts strayed back to Annie. It didn't make sense to him that she would disappear without a trace for nearly four years and suddenly reappear at a party thrown in honor of the group. What are the chances of that?

A small part of his mind would admit that he had missed her terribly. She had been the closest thing to a sister he had ever had. Sometimes she was even closer to him than his brother Mike or George. When she left him it was as if a piece of his soul had gone as well. It was truly disconcerting.

But she was back now. So what did that mean? Did his soul return in one piece? If that were the case, why did he still feel so empty inside? He was left with more questions than answers. How annoying that was. His mind wandered to the possible solutions to these inquiries, which is why his guitar playing had been so screwed up lately. Or maybe it was because he often found himself thinking about Annie and what could have happened had she stayed.

He stopped himself there. What exactly did he mean by that? What _could_ have happened? He supposed they would have gone on to enjoy life together. She would have come see the band perform at the Cavern, cheer them on, and join them in their celebrations when they got big. She would have come to his house for tea every Sunday like she used to and she would have been there for him when he needed someone to talk to about his interest in Jane. Yes, that's what he meant.

As if a reflection of his inner thoughts a person entered the studio. With an angry snap the umbrella they held closed and was placed in the stand beside the door. She wiped her rain boots on the carpet before crossing the threshold, making sure no mud followed her. After taking off her hat she shook the remaining water out of her auburn curls and flashed a broad smile to the room.

"Annie!"

Both she and Paul diverted their attention to the sound booth where the elder George gracefully rushed out of. Once he was on the floor he completely bypassed a flabbergasted Paul and swept Annie into a hug.

"Uncle George!"

He placed her back on her feet and stood a distance to get a better look at her. "Now please explain to me why I have not seen you in years."

"I've been away at school," she tried, and failed, to mimic his posh accent. She giggled at his look of disapproval and he couldn't help but smile. "It won't happen again, Uncle George, I promise."

"I'm going to hold that to you, now." He grabbed her hand and ushered her into the studio. "Paul, I'd like you to meet my niece."

"We've met," Paul said numbly.

"George, this was the Jimmy I used to talk about all the time," Annie told her uncle.

"Jimmy?"

"As in James."

"Oh! Right, right, of course. Come, Annie, let me show you around the studio!"

She nodded and waved at Paul, allowing her uncle to drag her through Abbey Road Studios.

The other George, John, and Ringo reentered a few minutes later.

"Was that the darling Annie I saw Martin boring with the sound system?" John asked as he picked up his guitar again.

"The one and only," Paul responded, still attempting to correct his mistakes on his own instrument.

"How convenient. She's here, and I'm here…"

Paul's eye twitched. When John said that, he wanted to rip his head off. So he opted to not respond.

"I think I'll get to her first, John," George said slyly. "After all, I am the more attractive Beatle."

"Ho ho!" The other three laughed sarcastically.

"Yeah, and I'm the queen of Sheba," Ringo smirked.

John snorted. "More like the queen of the queers."

"What's that about queers?" Brian Epstein entered the room, straightening his cuffs.

"I didn't say queer, I said gear."

"Sure you did. Now boys, are we ready to make more music and get it right this time?" All eyes turned to Paul who flushed under their gazes.

"Yeah, yeah, let's just get this over with," he answered with a sigh.

Thankfully the band rushed through several takes without a single screw up. John, Paul, and George's vocals were spot on and all instrumentals were pure perfection. Brian watched with a smile plastered on his face.

Even though his playing improved monumentally compared to how it was earlier in the day, Paul's mind still wandered. He frequently found his thoughts on the redhead in the sound booth with their producer. He tried to explain it away by listening to that part of his mind that informed him he missed her. But that same part also told him there was more to it, more to the way his heart ached when he thought about her leaving again. You know what they say: revenge is a dish best served redheaded. This must be how she was getting back at him for that New Year's Eve- She was driving him out of his mind. So consumed in his thoughts he didn't notice someone trying to capture his attention.

"Eh, Paul? Paul? Paul!"

"What?"

"Why dontcha answer when you're being spoken to?" John snapped.

"It's rude to stare, you know."

He suppressed a yelp. Unconsciously he was aware of Annie sitting on the floor against George's legs but he hadn't realized he had been staring so avidly at her. A little embarrassed he mumbled an apology and turned away.

"What's on your mind Paulie?" she asked.

_Oh, just you,_ he wanted to say. Of course he could not say that, though. "Just thinking about a new song."

"Oh really? Care to give us a listen?"

"No!" She cocked her head to the side and eyed him quizzically. He hated when she did that. "No, I mean, uh, it's not done yet."

John narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, okay. Stop moping about yet another fight you had with Jane and _pay attention_. We can't have this bird screwing the band up, you hear?"

Paul glared at him. "This has nothing to do with her."

"That seems to ever be the only reason behind any of your screw ups," George piped in.

"Really? You and Janie fight a lot?" Annie asked, curious.

"No," was the short answer she got from Paul.

"That's a lie!" Ringo interjected. "You're always complaining about something she's said or done."

Annie rolled her eyes as Paul made an angry retort. "Alright well you all can continue nitpicking Paul's love life but if you don't mind I'm actually going through with our plans to visit the Cavern and leaving." She stood and held her hand out to George. "Coming, love?"

He smiled and laced his fingers through hers. "Of course."

Paul watched them leave with a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn't like the looks those two kept throwing at each other or the way George's arm snaked around Annie's waist. They had been growing far too close for his liking.

"What's eating you?" John asked, waving a hand in front of his face.

"I'm fine. Are we going out, or not?"

John glanced at Ringo, who shrugged in return, and they all stood and left the studio.


	4. The Friend

**Author's Note: Currently watching Back to the Future and imagining I got in the DeLorean and travelled back to the 60s. I'd take you all of course :) So wow. I really love emails. Especially emails from fanfiction ;D Thank ye RemusLupinFan (aren't we all? :]) for adding to your story alerts and meggieleigh, Eliza March, Wribbet, and Dani Dragon for your reviews! I'm actually kind of in shock that I have 12 reviews. You guys are amazing! And big thanks to Eliza March for favoriting both the story and me! :D**

**Something I forgot to mention yesterday was I've decided I'll keep the title of this story since you guys seem to like it and it's made people such as meggieleigh burst into song ;) Haha and I will incorporate little flashbacks into the story, something I want to do because I wrote what I think is a really good one the other day while I SHOULD HAVE been listening to my math teacher drone on about asymptotes. Really, why would I want to listen to that crap when I COULD be writing about Annie Holloway and everyone's favorite boys? /slacker, that's what I am when it comes to school.**

**Anywho! I present to you the next installment of my story :)**

* * *

There he was, dancing with _his_ Annie. The nerve of some people, really. But George wasn't "some people"; he was one of Paul's best mates. Paul sighed. He really had to snap out of whatever funk he was in. It couldn't be healthy. With a roll of his eyes he grabbed hold of the first girl he could find and pulled her in for a dance.

Annie, on the other hand, was having an amazing time. She and George danced along to the group playing onstage. She had to admit he wasn't the greatest dancer but that's what made him even more adorable. He twirled her around and when she came back in she threw back her head and laughed.

"Did I tell you how amazing you look?" he asked, a little breathless, as they sat at the bar.

She took a swig of her rum mixed with Coke and grinned. "Yes you may have mentioned it once…or thrice." George gave her his little embarrassed smile. "Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself." She winked.

"Oh you are too kind, Miss Annabelle."

Annie grimaced. "Ugh don't call me that. Makes me feel like an old lady. It's not even me real name, just something Uncle George started calling me because he thought it was _classier_ than Annie."

He laughed. "I like it. It's…sexy."

She bit her lip but suddenly couldn't hold it anymore. The alcohol she just drank was sprayed all over the bar as she laughed hysterically. Those around them looked at her in disgust. "Aye, you're kidding, right? That's me grandmother's name. You wouldn't think the same if you saw her!"

George couldn't help but laugh with her. It was infectious. "Alright, well, that's different! She can't be as good looking as you."

"'Course not; she's all old and decrepit! Can you imagine her in this?" She gestured to her form-fitting black and white striped sweater dress. He most certainly could not imagine Grandma Annabelle in that but he _could_ imagine a certain someone _without_ it…

"George!"

Startled, he quickly looked away. He had this insane thought that she could read minds and knew everything that had been on his. "What?"

"I was talkin' to ya!"

"Sorry, mind was back in the studio…" he mumbled untruthfully. "What'd you say?"

"I was only wondering what you thought of me when we were younger. You never seemed to like me back then." She swirled the contents of her drink, chin in hand, and turned the unyielding force of her brilliant green eyes on him. He was hypnotized.

"Well I guess I was kind of jealous you were so close to Paul. He was this cooler older guy I thought I had to be like but he would ditch me to hang out with Little Red." He flashed that crooked grin again. "But when he brought you around you grew on me. I realized you weren't as bad as I thought, even after you and your friends jumped me that one time I said something about your mum."

She chuckled. "Yeah I remember that. Can't say I regret it; you had a lot of nerve calling me mum a 'dirty common slag'."

"Sorry 'bout that. Like I said, I was jealous. If I had known then what I know now maybe things would've been different."

"Is that so? What do you know now that you didn't then?"

"Then I didn't know how amazing you were. And I always overlooked your beauty."

A little flustered she nodded. "So what would have happened if you knew that?"

"I dunno, maybe this?" He leaned forward ever so slowly and gently placed his lips on hers. The kiss was quick and sweet and left Annie wanting more. He pulled back and smiled. "That's what sixteen year old me would've done."

"Yeah, well, me thinks twenty-one year old you should do this." She grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer, crushing their lips together. George traced the outline of her mouth with his tongue until she permitted him entry. She tasted of alcohol and chocolate, a deadly mix that excited him. He grabbed a hold of her waist as she took hold of a handful of his hair, locking each other in place. Their breathing became quick and ragged. A single moan escaped his lips. He felt her smile around their kiss.

"Look what we have here."

They broke apart and turned to face a smirking John.

"What is it, Lennon?" George, a little irritated, demanded. That had been one of the most amazing, most intense kisses he had ever had and it was ruined, thanks to John.

John only had eyes for Annie. She didn't shy away from his deep gaze, instead smiling prettily (and a tad bit challengingly) at him, which made him all the more interested. "I was wondering if the lady cared to dance."

"We're busy, thanks."

Annie frowned at him. "Actually, I think we're done here. You don't mind, do you George?"

Hell yes he minded! How could she go from snogging him like crazy one minute and then running off with John the next? How the fuck was this fair? But instead he said, "No."

Throwing him a quick smile over her shoulder she led John out to the floor. She allowed him to place his hands on her waist and she didn't even bother to stop him from travelling beyond that spot.

"What's a guy gotta do to get some of the hospitality you showed George, huh?" he asked with a sly grin on his face.

"I have a feeling you want a little more hospitality than that, am I right Lennon?"

He shrugged. "You could be. Would you be the one to show me?"

"You're married."

"That hasn't stopped me before."

"You're certainly a dirty boy."

"And you love it."

"You're right."

That grin only got wider. "You're different than the other birds, you know?"

"So I've heard."

"That's what I like about you."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I can hold a real conversation without you freaking out or red as a tomato."

"You don't scare me," she told him indifferently. "To me you're still a regular person, the same prick who corrupted Paul and George all those years ago."

John laughed. "Me? Corrupt those two? That's funny, I was under the impression I was the victim in this case."

"Yeah, 'cause you're so innocent and helpless Mr. Hospitality."

"So that brings us back to our previous conversation." He winked.

"I don't fool around with married men, sorry."

"Ah, come on. This is John Lennon you're talking about!"

"So?"

His face was a mask of faux horror. "So? _So_? Annabelle, dear, I don't think you understand."

"Then enlighten me."

"What more is there to it? I'm John _fucking_ Lennon. Music extraordinaire. I know how to rock your world."

Annie laughed once. "Yeah, I've heard that before." She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "But I know how to blow your mind."

John shivered. "Christ, you're driving me mad!"

"See what I mean?"

They stared at each other for awhile, not sure of anything more to say. Annie was certain he was leaning in to kiss her when—

"Annie Elle!"

She had heard that voice before. The last time had been a few months ago. But no, it couldn't be, "Cristina?"

"Annie!"

Paul watched from afar as an averagely pretty American girl with short dirty blond hair launched herself at a surprised Annie. They both squealed and jumped around a bit, causing quite a scene. He smiled, admiring how happy his friend looked. She pulled the other girl towards him and the boys with that grin still glued on her flushed face.

"Paulie, I'd like you to meet me Beatle obsessed best friend and once my roommate in college Cristina. Crissy, this is Paul, John, Ringo, and George."

Cristina's bright blue eyes widened. "Wow. I didn't believe her when she told me she knew you all. It's really a pleasure to meet you!"

"The pleasure is ours, dear," Ringo smiled at her. "Any friend of Annie's is a friend of ours!" The blond was pleasantly surprised when he pulled her in for a hug. She glanced at Annie who merely shrugged and downed the rest of her drink.

"Since you're here, Cristina, let us buy you a drink," Paul offered.

"Oh no thank you, I'm not much of a drinker," she told him, shaking her head.

Annie glared at her. "Bull shit. You're in Liverpool now, love. We're all drinkers here. Bartender!" The man gave her an appraising eye. She batted her long eyelashes at him and tapped her nearly empty glass, signaling for another.

"'ere you are, dear." He slid the glass towards her, along with a napkin Paul noticed had several numbers on. Was that man trying to hit on her?

"Thank you." Annie completely ignored him and turned to her friend. "Drink this before I force it down your throat."

"Ooh she's feisty, I like," John said, growling and winking at her. Gingers turned him on.

Cristina eyed the glass warily, trailing her finger in the dripping condensation. "What is this?"

"Rum and Coke. Drink it!"

Sighing, she obeyed and dumped the glass in her mouth. She scrunched her nose as the bitter taste slid down her throat. "Oh that's terrible!"

Annie chuckled and finished off her own. "You get used to it."

And get used to it she did. Not just the drinking that was a regular occurrence with her new friends, but everything. Cristina stayed with Annie at her flat for the next few weeks and it was surprisingly easy for her to adjust to life in England; the time change, the language, hanging with the Beatles-she fit nicely into it all. This was the beginning of a beautiful friendship…or maybe even more.


	5. The Chase

**Author's Note:**** Good day lovelies :) Woo, it's the weekend! I've got no school today so I thought I'd celebrate by updating my story! :D Annddd a cacaphonous (see my vocab use, there?) round of applause to my lovely reviewers Sweeneysbestfriend, Betty Flamingo, Wribbet, and Eliza March and also I give me eternal gratefulness to The Troubled Jelly Bean (I LOVE YOUR NAME), 555LordBacon666 (I think I love your name too haha) and mizz Betty Flamingo for favoriting! I LOVE YOU ALL. In a strictly non creepy way of course.**

**Just so ya know, I'm thinking about changing my pen name. I made this name to go on a comment attack/rampage on youtube so no one could trace it back to me but now I'm bored with it. Heh heh so yeah don't freak out if you see this story and the author has a different name or anything.  
****Um did anyone hear Mark Chapman said he was considering killing Johnny Carson or Liz Taylor but Lennon was more accessible? Let me state for the masses that dude's a fucking creep.**

**Going off on a tangent here, I absolutely hate school. Did I ever tell you that? Didn't think so. Anyway, for the one class I DO enjoy I have to write a little tragic play and I was considering morphing this into play form, focusing solely on Paul/Annie though cause I'm only allowed two characters. I'd love to hear anyone's opinion on that. Or if you have any other ideas because I'm fresh out (look at me asking people who don't know me from the hobo on the corner for help on my homework. That's not desperate is it? Let's pretend you said no). **

**So yeah, I don't want to bore you all with my petty problems and this annoyingly long AN so I'll just cut to the chase. I rather like this chapter, if I do say so myself. Particularly the ending. But I think I may like the ending of the next chapter even better...Ahh I'll leave the opinions of the chapters to you readers :) Well, here it is!**

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"So what's your favorite band?"

Annie swirled the contents of her glass and cocked her head to the side, thinking. She was in some fancy five-star London restaurant with the Beatle boys, Cristina, Brian Epstein, Uncle George, and Cynthia Lennon for a late birthday dinner for George. They made a truly interesting bunch. When they entered the place John immediately decided to cause a scene and loudly exclaimed about some piece of art hanging on the wall. George and Ringo followed suite, yelling and jumping around, and Paul just hung back, moping about something or another.

She, Cristina, and Cynthia looked on with mild interest, not really bothering to try to stop the animals. Annie was half tempted to join them in their frolicking but Brian quickly quieted them and a waiter led them to a table, slightly star struck.

So now she was sitting at a round table with George and Cristina on either side of her. She was talking avidly to the former, finding herself noticing all of the attractive bits of his personality. He really was charming. Charming though he may be he was still a male and halfway through their conversation she found his hand not laced with hers under the table but lying on her thigh. She smirked at his boldness.

"You didn't answer my question, love," George said.

She glanced at him from under her thick, dark lashes, knowing this action would have a significant effect on him. "What was it?"

He cleared his throat and looked away quickly. Across from him Paul was glaring at his pudding, half-listening to whatever spiel Ringo was trying to sell him. For an instant he wondered what was up with him but he realized he didn't really care, not when Annie was currently tracing lines along his thigh. He missed the pointed looks his friend threw at the pair.

"I, uh, wanted to know what your favorite band was," he said again, trying to smirk but it came out as a sort of pained smile.

She laughed at his look. "You didn't expect me to say you, did you? I'm all about the Beach Boys."

"The Beach Boys?"

"Who're they?" Paul asked. He didn't care that it was obvious he was eavesdropping.

Cristina looked at him as if he were crazy. "Who are they? _Who are they_? Only the greatest thing to happen to America besides Elvis! And I guess you guys," she added with a sheepish smile.

"You're too kind, love," Ringo winked at her and she blushed furiously.

"Ease up, Rich, she's not used to being flirted on with an attractive Englishman such as yourself," Annie said.

John scoffed. "With a hooter like that I don't think attractive is part of his vocabulary."

"Be nice John!" Cynthia scolded. "I happen to think Ringo is attractive and has the most beautiful eyes."

"Watch it, Cyn," he warned.

"Tell us more about these Beach Boy fellows," Paul tried, and succeeded, in steering the conversation away from this dangerous territory.

"Oh they're fantastic, Paulie," Annie sighed dreamily. "They're like musicians who can sing about everything summer is and what you want it to be. I have a few of their records back in me apartment if you wanna take a listen."

"Yeah, okay," Paul responded nonchalantly. He couldn't let her know his heart was thundering in his chest at an invite back to her place. Actually, he was starting to think he was a little unstable with all of these strange mood swings.

"Are we done here, Brian?" Ringo asked, patting his full stomach. "I won't be able to eat another thing."

"You'll probably be stuffing your face as soon as you get home," John muttered.

"Yes, just let me pay the bill and we can go," Brian said.

They eventually left and went their separate ways. Paul and George rode in Annie's car with her and Cristina, John and Cynthia went home, and Ringo returned to his flat for a kip before they all went back out to a club later in the night.

"Sorry about the mess," Annie said once they were in her flat, tossing her keys on the table beside the door.

"Most of it's mine," Cristina added.

Paul thought they were crazy. Apart from a few bags lying haphazardly in the center of the sitting room the place was spotless. A comfortable sectional was positioned in front of a large entertainment center that acted as a television stand, a bookcase, and a place for all of their records. He thumbed through the massive collection while the others went into the kitchen for a drink.

"Bob Dylan?" he called as Annie returned to the sitting room with a bottle of something in her hand.

"Oh yeah, he's great," she responded plopping onto the sofa. "He's got a very folksy sound and he talks about the world, you know? His lyrics speak to me."

Paul nodded. "He sounds interesting. I'll listen to him after we listen to this." He placed a vinyl titled _Little Deuce Coup_ on the record player.

"Ah, this is my favorite!" Annie exclaimed. "Dance with me Paul!" She grabbed his hand, a glass full of warm amber liquid in the other, and the two moved in rhythm to the title track.

"I love this song!" Cristina shouted as she reentered the room. She joined their little dance with George, who somehow managed to get Annie to himself. Paul fumed silently.

Later on their way to the Cavern Paul sulked in the backseat listening to George and Annie talk animatedly in the front.

"I know you like her," Cristina whispered from beside him.

"What?" he asked, slightly affronted.

"Annie. I know you like her. She told me what happened before she left and frankly, judging by the way you're acting right now, I think you were an idiot then and an idiot now."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he grumbled.

"You're mad she's seeing George. Anyone with two eyes and a brain can figure that out."

"She's what?"

She stared at him a little funnily. "They're dating. Why do you think they've been spending so much time together?"

He had to admit it made sense. For the past two weeks both Annie and George had been stealing covert glimpses of each other when they were all out in a group. They had also taken to going off together when they went to the club. Or whenever she went for a quick smoke break he would follow, or vice versa, and they would return together, a little frazzled.

Cristina patted his arm sympathetically. "Why don't you tell her how you feel?"

"It's too late for that."

"It's never too late for love."

He was going to respond to that horrible cliché but his thought went out the door with a smiling Annie and George as they made their way into the Cavern hand in hand without even bothering to see if their friends were following. Annie and George: The happy golden couple who didn't give a damn about the fact that they were twisting a knife deeper into Paul's heart every day.

When did he get so dramatic?

Oh that's right. The night _she_ came back into his life.

Damn her.

"Wanna dance, Paul?" Cristina asked him with a timid smile once they were in the club. Before he could decline she placed a finger on his lips. "You can't lose who you are because of one person. Quit moping and be a fucking man."

He laughed. "That sounds like something she would have said."

Cristina rolled her eyes. "Well if you aren't going to take me up on my offer I'm leaving. There's bound to be some other gent willing to sweep me off of my feet." He didn't respond but instead watched silently as she crossed the room and jumped into the arms of an awaiting Ringo.

Frustrated, he sighed and downed a beer the bartender just slid him. Everyone around him was so…happy. Why couldn't he have that? Why couldn't he be happy? Wait, why wasn't he happy?

He thought about that for a minute or two. Just a few weeks ago he felt on top of the world, as if there was nothing he couldn't do. Everything, including that damned country of America, was conquerable and within his reach. Paul, as well as the others, was on the top of the metaphorical food chain of life. So why did he suddenly feel so miserable, so empty? It could all be traced back to when Annie blew back into his life.

Speaking of Annie, he wondered where she was right now. Was she thinking of him as much as he was thinking of her? Did she realize how much her being with George was killing him on the inside? She couldn't possibly know because Paul _technically_ didn't know either. Or perhaps a better way to phrase that is he wouldn't own up to those thoughts.

A few hours and several more glasses of liquor later, Paul was being dragged across the club by a raven-haired beauty who wanted him, right then and there.

"You've always been my favorite," she whispered in his ear, pressing herself against him. "I could show you how much you mean to me."

"Oh?" was all he managed to say. The girl (Sasha or Sarah or some other crap name with an "s") nodded eagerly.

"Why don't you come with me?"

He didn't even get a chance to answer by the time she grabbed a hold of his arm and yanked him away from his whiskey. Sam or Sandra cut through the crowd, using her semi-threatening form to scare others out of their way. They passed several familiar faces and Paul made them slow once they neared little shady alcoves with different couples in them. There was John with some random bird who was _not_ Cynthia, Ringo and Cristina (that was interesting), and George and…

He felt as if someone had knocked the wind out of him. Wrenching his arm out of the thing's grasp he turned on his heel and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" she called after him frantically.

"I'm sorry Shauna—"

"It's Dianne!" Or maybe it was something with a "d"…

"Yeah, alright. Listen, I've got to go. Nice meeting you!"

Someone grabbed his wrist again. Expecting to see Dana or whatever when he turned he gasped loudly when his eyes landed on a fiery red head with round green eyes. She eyed him intuitively.

"Walk with me?" she asked, her steady voice barely louder than a whisper. He nodded numbly and followed her.

He watched with a smile on his face as she stumbled out of the club, giggling like mad. This reminded him of the time he and his friends had first stolen alcohol from a few unsuspecting adults. She had originally scolded him for it but when he called her a square she ripped the bottle from his hand and drained the beer in seconds. After that she was completely trashed and absolutely hilarious.

"I miss you," he found himself blurting out.

Annie stopped twirling in the streets and faced him. Her dark green eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't know."

Startled, he said, "It's true! I missed you like crazy every single day you were gone."

"Can't be too much!" she spat. "If you did you would've come find me after that day, Paul."

"What are you talking about? You were gone!"

"Are you really that thick? Do you think I just picked up and left that same night? Paul you dolt I was still there for a while!"

"But—" he stopped himself. It wouldn't help if he argued with her. "Where the hell were you, Annie?"

She crossed her arms defiantly. "What does it matter? I'm here now."

"But you were gone for years! Without even a goodbye!"

"It's not like you would've cared anyway! Like I told you if you did you would've found me! But no, you were too far up John Lennon's arse to give a damn about someone who just—"

Paul pressed her against the wall and slammed his fist angrily against the cement a few inches from her ear. "Stop it, just stop it. Don't you dare tell me I don't fucking care because that's a lie and you know it."

"Let go of me," she growled. When he didn't budge she decided to provoke him. "Why don't you run on back to Janie? You know this won't work on me."

Taken aback, he eased his grip on her arm slightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"This," she gestured between the two. "This is all about control. Power, dominance. You live for it. You know you can't get it from me; I'm too much for you to handle. That's probably why you're with Jane right now. She gives you the free reign you need, you desire."

He let go of her completely and she put a wide berth between them. "Damn it, Annie, what the hell is wrong with you? You don't even know Jane!"

She laughed and it was not at all kind. "Why don't you ask your little girlfriend about that then? Who do you think told her to do this acting shit she's doing?" She yelled. "Who do you think went to every single one of her fucking school plays when her idiotic parents couldn't make it? Who do you think supported and praised her when she got her first lead role? So any problems in your relationship brought on by her acting can be blamed on me."

He shook his head, not believing anything she said. "You're not making any sense."

"You just don't want to admit that I'm right- about everything."

"You know that's not true!"

"No? Then what the hell is it Paul? Enlighten me!"

"This is you being a fucking idiot!"

Annie was livid. Her hands were clenched in tight fists and she couldn't control her shaking. "Really? D'ya wanna see me being an idiot?"

"I think I've seen enough of it, thanks."

A smirk lit up her face. She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted into the night, "Hey girlies! There's that McCartney bloke you all seem to fancy!" In an undertone she added, "For reasons I'll never understand."

Horrified Paul yelled, "What the fuck did you just do?"

"I'm an idiot, remember?" she replied innocently.

Just then a gang of girls ran down the street. "Ohmygosh, there he is! She wasn't lying!" They shrieked like banshees and chased after Paul, who was currently sprinting in the other direction.

He had to admit he was pretty sure he loved Annie Eleanor Holloway. But as he raced down the street searching for safety only one thought was on his mind: He wanted to fucking _kill_ her.


	6. The Mistake

**Author's Note: Alright, I was going to post this tomorrow but I just couldn't resist. Thank you to the insanely awesome The Troubled Jelly Bean, Wribbet, KyokoHonda49, Eliza March, meggieleigh, and Sweeneysbestfriend for reviewing! And of course thanks to anyone who's read :)**

**So I really love Cristina in this chapter. I think she's just great. And I apologize for the lack of Paul bleeping McCartney but he wasn't needed here. Anyway, please read on! And possibly review? That'd be great. But I'm not going to force you into anything you don't want to do. Or maybe I'll bust out my Jedi mind tricks, who knows?**

**PS For when you find out what happens- did anyone see this coming? I did. But I'm the writer so I'm biased.**

* * *

"_I…I messed up, Cris."_

Annie sat up abruptly, drenched in sweat. She impatiently brushed the wetness out of her eyes and tried to remember where she was. The room was dark but it was obviously a bedroom, seeing as she was currently sitting on the large bed. The scent of whiskey and sex filled the air. A muffled snore sounded from beside her. Her heart sunk. The previous night came back to her in a frustrating rush.

_Blinking back angry tears, Annie nearly ran back into the club. Paul had made her so mad. Who did he think he was trying to convince her he actually gave two shits about her? If he did he wouldn't have just thought her long gone or run off to that little whore—_

"_Oof!"_

_She hadn't been paying attention to her surroundings while she was silently ranting about that idiot Paul. When she rounded the corner where she was sure George would be she ran into something solid._

"_Watch it, will ya?" he slurred._

"_Shove off," she growled. She tried to push past but the drunk grabbed her wrist._

"_Wait."_

_With a roll of her eyes she turned and was face to face with him. His eyes, unfocused in a drunken haze seconds before, watched her intently. There was an unspoken question hanging thickly in the air between them_

"_I'm fine," she whispered._

"_No you're not," he challenged. "What happened?"_

"_You happened. Now let me go." She tried to walk away but her efforts were in vain._

_He pulled her close, so close she could smell the liquor on his breath. They stared unblinkingly into each other's eyes, no words being spoken. Before she could even react he lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers. Annie found herself kissing him back eagerly. The horror of her actions didn't set in just yet._

_He kissed her tenderly, a lustful hunger lying beneath the surface. Annie found herself pressed against a wall with his arms around her waist in an attempt to keep her close. Her legs wrapped themselves around him and she held on tightly. He pulled back and grinned._

"_I knew you wanted me," he whispered fiercely._

"_Shut up and kiss me," she whispered back sultrily._

_Never breaking their intimate embrace he carried her out of the club and to her car parked just out front. He opened the door and sat in the driver's seat, gently sliding her off of his lap._

"_Where are we going?" she asked, trailing kisses from his collar bone and up his neck. She felt him shiver under her touch._

_The rest of the car ride was a bit of a blur to her but she remembered where they ended up. He opened the door for her and she slid out, falling flatly on her rear end. She laughed hysterically as he helped her up._

"_Shhh," he hissed, fighting back a laugh himself. "You're really something else when you're wasted, you know that?"_

_Smiling, she pressed herself against him and kissed the corner of his mouth. "I'm something else when I'm _not _wasted, too. You like that, don't you?"_

_They both stumbled through the front door of a house, giggling at nothing in particular. Annie bumped into a table and a rather unattractive vase crashed to the floor._

"_Oops."_

"_Aye that was a wedding present!" he exclaimed._

_Annie smiled evilly. "Why does it matter? It's broken, just like your marriage." She purposely tipped over another vase, enjoying the sound that filled the room when it collided with the wooden floor._

_He pulled her towards him and kissed her neck. "You're right. Why bother?"_

_He dragged her upstairs into an empty bedroom. The two locked lips again, this time much more hungrily. Slowly, the thin pieces of fabric that acted as a second skin unraveled themselves and fell to the floor. He pushed Annie back onto the bed and ran his hands along her petite frame. The game was on as the two experienced a forbidden passion filled night…_

Frowning Annie kneaded her throbbing forehead. This was not good, not good at all. Sober Annie didn't want him that way. But the drunken mind always seemed to know the hidden desires of a person so perhaps she did…She chanced a glance at the sleeping man beside her and groaned. How could she let that happen?

With the stealth and silence of a stalking cat she dressed quickly and tiptoed across the room. She closed the door behind her and ran down the stairs, praying his family wasn't back from whatever holiday they had taken. Once inside her car she looked towards a window on the second floor and saw the curtains flutter close. She sighed. She needed her best friend _now_.

/

Cristina was seated at a table outside of some hip café in downtown London. She sipped her coffee leisurely, one eye scanning the crowd moving past. About an hour ago she received a call from Annie who practically demanded the meeting here. Curiosity piqued she eagerly obliged and rode a taxi from their flat.

When she went home last night she was slightly shocked that her friend wasn't sleeping soundly in her home like she expected she was. Not like her mind was completely focused on the girl. She was a bit busy herself…Still; she was worried even though Annie was grown and could handle herself. But the two were like sisters and you always look out for your sister, right?

Anyway she assumed Annie spent the night with George. But Ringo called her and when she asked he told her she wasn't there. Exasperated, she waited impatiently for an explanation. Luckily she spotted a redhead moving through the crowd towards her.

"Where the hell have you been?" she shouted before Annie even sat down.

"Will you keep it down? I've got a raging hangover," she sighed sitting opposite Cristina.

"Here, drink this." She offered her coffee over and laughed when Annie grimaced after taking a sip.

"Bleh, I forget you take it black." She hailed a waiter and ordered her own drink.

"So what's this about?" Cristina wanted to get straight to the point.

Annie sighed. Curse her for being so blunt. Then she smirked. Crissy actually learned that from her. She waited until she was able to have her own coffee before speaking. "I…I messed up, Cris." She bit her lip, pausing for a response.

Cristina's eyes grew round. "You didn't kill anyone, did you?"

"I—wait what?"

"You shanked someone! Oh God, Annie, this is horrible. What are you going to do?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You…you _didn't_ kill anyone, then?"

"No you idiot! Why would you think that?"

"You do have a bit of a temper on you, and it usually becomes worse when alcohol is involved."

Annie was going to make an angry retort but she had to agree. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. I'm such a stereotypical ginger, ain't I?"

"You are."

"Well who would I possibly want to kill? I don't hate anyone that much!"

"What about that guy from school? The one who tried to kiss you at that party Beverly threw, I mean."

"I guess there's him, but—"

"And then there's that 'wanker' as you call him who criticized your writing."

"Yeah, but—"

"And there's the girl who lived down the hall from us and your creative writing professor and Paul and—"

"Okay! I get it; I'm a temperamental old bat who hates nearly everyone with the exception of a few people, not including you right now." She stuck her tongue out and Cristina chuckled. "But that's not the point of this outing right now."

"What is?"

She took a deep breath and said, "Did you notice how George went home alone last night?"

"No, I was actually a little preoccupied."

"With who?"

"A young Mister Starkey, if you must know."

Annie laughed. "Oh my goodness, are you serious?" Cristina nodded with a smile. "You _will _tell me everything."

"I promise. But you have to tell me what happened with you last night."

The frown was back in place. "You see, I got in a bit of an argument with Paul—"

"That seems to be a natural occurrence with you two."

She shot a glare at the blond who merely looked away innocently. "Well he pissed me off and I sent a group of birds after him."

"You're kidding! How did you get a group of pigeons to go after him?" She looked totally serious.

"No, I mean girls. Birds as in girls. You're in England, love. Get hip to the vernacular."

"Ohhh, girls. That I can see. How did he react to that?"

"Dunno, he was running for his life." She laughed. "Served him right, the jerk."

"What exactly did you fight about?"

She stirred her drink with a finger and sat her chin in her hand. "He told me he missed me. I can't hear that, Cristina, I just can't. He's going to make me lose me mind."

Cristina shook her head. "I don't get it. Don't you miss him, though?"

"That's not the point."

"Annie you told me you confessed your love to him before you left to America. No one forgets their first love."

"I did a damn good job of trying."

"Don't you think it's wrong you're dating his best friend, though? That's not gonna help you get him back."

She narrowed her eyes. "Jane and I were pretty close before I left, you know."

Cristina's eyes widened. "I see. So, uh, what was it that happened last night?"

"When I came back into the club after I talked to Paul I ran into someone…"

"And?"

"And we may have gone back to his place and…yeah."

"So who was it?"

Annie bit her lip. "Don't get mad."

"If it's as bad as you're making it seem I don't think I'm the one you have to worry about being mad."

"It was John."

Cristina made the mistake of taking a sip of her coffee at that point. The scalding hot liquid was sprayed all over Annie and she coughed and spluttered before becoming coherent again. "It was _who?_ Are you fucking kidding me?"

"You know you didn't have the mouth of a sailor before we became friends." Annie grimaced and attempted to dry herself off.

"This isn't the time to joke! First you start dating the guy you _really_ love's best friend. And _then_ you end up screwing _that_ guy's best friend! Who's next, Ringo?"

"I told you not to get mad."

She completely ignored her and continued her tirade. "This is just rich. You have a funny way of trying to win over someone."

"I'm not trying to 'win over someone'. If I was I sure as hell wouldn't do that."

"So what was it like?"

That took Annie by surprise. "Excuse me?"

Cristina rolled her eyes. "The sex, Annie, what was it like?"

Debating whether or not to be honest, she eyed her friend carefully. "I think the thing that makes me hate myself the most is the fact that I actually liked it."

"I don't blame you; I'd probably enjoy a passion filled night with John Lennon too."

"Will you shut the hell up? There are ears everywhere in this damned city."

"Do you think he'll remember? He seemed pretty far gone to me."

Before she could respond they both noticed a person who had just walked past double back and stand next to their table smiling.

"Hello ladies," the person they had previously been talking about said happily, taking a seat.

"Hello," the girls answered simultaneously.

"So what, or who, did you do last night, Cristina?" John asked audaciously as he folded up his sunglasses.

"I don't see how that's any of your business." She turned her nose up to him in a disgusted gesture. He merely chuckled and looked to Annie.

"What about you, Holloway? It surely wasn't George." He winked.

Annie glanced at Cristina and said in an undertone, "I'll take that as a yes."

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Don't you have somewhere to be? Like maybe working on your new movie script?"

"Oh, a movie?" Cristina asked interestedly.

John snorted. "Yeah, it's supposed to be some crap thing about our lives and this 'Beatlemania' nonsense. Are you two going to come down to the studio later?" They nodded and he added, "Wish me luck."

"Good luck!" Cristina chirped.

"Break a leg," Annie said. "Literally."

John laughed. "Cheeky. I like it." He grinned at the pair of them and walked down the street.

"What are you going to do about George?" Cristina whispered.

"I don't know," Annie admitted miserably. "Maybe not tell him? Honestly I'm a little more concerned about Cynthia. I hate to say it but she's probably used to it by now. However, I don't want to cause her any more problems. I'm not that much of a bitch. Ugh, just kill me now."

"Brutally or painlessly?"

Annie stared at her friend before saying in a serious tone, "Brutally please."


	7. The Stranger

**Author's Note: I wasn't sure if I would be able to post this. My week was pretty horrible and hectic and just...bleh. I won't bore you with the details. Anyway, fanfiction is always a good mood booster for me, hence why I got around to putting this up. So thanks to anyone who's read and reviewed or favorited or added to story alerts! I'm too lazy to post names right now but you know who you are. Random thanks to The awesome but Troubled Jelly Bean (see what I did there?) for just being cool.**

**I must also thank KyokoHonda49 for asking to see more Cringo (Cristina/Ringo) and the outcome of Paul's night after he was chased by the girls because that is exactly what this chapter is. So there you go :) This probably should have gone before last chapter but I didn't plan on doing this until the aforementioned request so yeah, basically it's what happened BEFORE Annie was a major dumb ass. It's a bit longer than most of my chapters so far but I kind of wanted to expand on Cristina's character. I also threw in a song reference just for the hell of it. Can anyone find it? Kay, I'll stop blabbering and let you get to the action. Read on!**

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Cristina wouldn't consider herself a drinker but right about now she needed _something_.

Ever since she discovered the Beatles, Paul had been her favorite. He seemed so sweet, adorable, and lovable. She could've died happy just gazing into his perfect eyes. Now that she had met him, though, he wasn't anything like she imagined. He was moody and depressing when she pictured him being this happy-go-lucky lad who could light up a room with that gorgeous smile of his. Of course she suspected most of his recent behavior was brought upon by Annie but he didn't strike her as the kind of person to sulk for too long. It bothered her when he rejected her offer at a dance. Right now he was being a total _downer_ and she couldn't stand to be in his presence any longer for fear of her losing her sanity. So she picked up the first glass of something alcoholic she could find and retained her dignity.

She found that simple act a lot harder to do now that she knew Annie. When the two met in college, Cristina admitted she was a different person then. Her blond hair had been much longer, her eyes a much brighter blue, and her bubbly personality was rather infectious. But then she had to share a dorm with Annie- snide, cynical, proud Annie. That really wears a person down.

The pair immediately clicked. She snorted to herself. Yeah right, like _that_ could happen. They automatically hated each other. Cristina tried to be nice, she really did. Who could be rude to a person when it was their first time in a completely different country and they were on their own? She tried to be her friend but Annie denied, claiming she could get along fine by herself, thank you very much. She was a "class A" bitch; that much Cristina knew. But she hadn't done anything terrible to deserve that overt hostility from the ignorant redhead. She still received it, though.

Somehow, they became friends. She couldn't remember exactly how it happened. Perhaps it was when she returned an assignment Annie had lost. Or maybe it was when that idiot was coming on to her near the end of freshman year and Annie protected her from what she was sure would be something horrible. Yes, that had to be it. After that they were much friendlier to one another.

They became inseparable. Annie knew things about Cristina no one else did. She knew all of the quirky habits she had like counting each tile she stepped on or having to watch _Breakfast at Tiffany's _at least once every two weeks if the local theatre was still playing it. She knew about Cristina's secret desire to be the next Audrey Hepburn or Marilyn Monroe even though her family told her that was stupid and she _should_ be a lawyer. She knew how horribly strict and uptight her parents Linda and Eric Donovan were. She knew about the torment she received from her older brother Joseph. She knew the bizarre fact that she found her cousin Samuel attractive. She even knew the one thing that hurt her most- the fact that she was made an outcast in her own family because she was _different _and shied away from their cookie-cutter lifestyle. But what Cristina didn't know was that was why Annie invited her to Liverpool. She wanted to get her best friend, her sister, away from all of that.

Now that she _was_ away from the evil bastards that made up her family and in England Cristina wondered if she was having a good time. She did enjoy spending time with her best friend and her favorite band. Who was she kidding? That alone was what made the trip! She was in the same circle as _the Beatles_. Her friends back home would absolutely die if they ever found out. She wouldn't mention the fact that one of them was rather disconcerting because she had to make the illusion that they were the greatest people on Earth. How else was she supposed to brag about it and feel supreme to the others if she didn't? Oh, if only her family could see her now, rubbing elbows with the elite.

Speaking of "the elite", there was Ringo sitting at the bar chatting up a pretty brunette dressed in a hideous neon green sequined dress and too high shoes that could do some serious damage. She frowned. That bothered her for some reason. She liked Ringo. He actually paid attention to her. Well, maybe he was just being a flirt. Either way, it was nice to get noticed. But there he was with some girl who was just a number. Goodness, was she…jealous? That would explain why she wanted to drag that girl away by her overly gelled hair. She silently scolded herself. Violence was never her thing. That was Annie's.

She exhaled noisily causing her bangs to flitter about her face and plopped herself on the barstool beside him, leaning against the bar with her elbows propped up behind her.

"Is he always like that?" she asked, letting her former irritation creep back into her voice.

He turned slightly to get a better look at her and raised an eyebrow. "Who're we talking about?"

"Paul. He's really being a Negative Nancy. It's bringing me down, man."

He chuckled. "No, he was actually much more cheerful before you and Annie got here."

"Then that's got to be the problem! He's hung up on her, he just won't admit it."

"At least we see the issue at hand here."

"You think that's it, then?"

"It's obvious, isn't it? He's jealous of George because he wants her."

"What a stupid prat."

"Ringo," the girl on his other side whined. Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard. "Can we get out of here?"

He shot her an incredulous look. "Can't you see I'm talking here?"

The girl glared at him and then stormed off, presumably to find someone more famous than him to hop in bed with.

"I think you hurt her feelings," Cristina said apathetically.

"Ah, oh well. I'd much rather stay here with you than go off with her."

She shifted her head to the side to hide her blush and growing smile. "So, uh, Ringo, what's it like to be part of one of the most famous bands of today?"

"Pretty nice, I guess; especially when the lads are good. It has its perks." Then he winked at her. "Like meeting you, for instance."

She didn't have a chance to hide her blush this time but thankfully, the place was dark enough to do it for her. She couldn't, however, make her shocked expression go away. For about a minute she just sat there staring at him, dumbfounded. Finally her brain decided to kick in.

"Okay so then that's obviously the best part." Thank heavens for a witty response.

He smiled. "It is. Other than that there's the fact that I get to do what I love for a living. But enough about me, I'm sure you know all about me anyway."

"Cocky, are we?"

"My name's not John. Anyway, tell me about yourself."

"Like what?"

"Anything you feel I should know."

"Okay then." Chewing on her lower lip she considered what exactly she felt she should tell him. "Well, I'm Cristina Donovan, I'm twenty-one, and I used to live in Miami, Florida. I majored in creative writing but I'm still unsure of what I want to do with my life. My family, who is all jerk-face assholes, wants me to be a big shot lawyer but like that'll happen. I'm obsessed with any movie Audrey Hepburn was in and I want to be just like her. I love to eat, preferably something chocolate. I've always wanted to learn an instrument but my mom wouldn't pay for lessons. I have a collection of creepy porcelain dolls that mean the world to me and if anyone got rid of them I would just die. My favorite color is yellow and I'm a sucker for blue eyes."

Ringo smirked. "Is that so, now?"

"Yeah."

He stroked her cheek with his thumb and smiled. "You're adorable when you blush, you know that?"

Damn her burning cheeks. They made her so obvious. There goes her faux nonchalance.

"I'm not blushing," she replied stupidly.

"Yes you are. Am I making you do that?"

"I am not blushing!"

"You're so stubborn."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

"If you keep that face the gremlins will come and take your tongue!"

That did it. Cristina screwed up her face and stared at him but she couldn't contain the laugher any longer. She erupted in a fit of loud, contagious giggles and Ringo laughed along with her. People passed by and gave them funny looks. After a few minutes they calmed down and glanced at each other, smiling. But that just made them laugh all over again, even harder this time.

And suddenly, just like that, he kissed her.

It wasn't at all something forced and unpleasant. A realization dawned on her that she had _wanted_ this. Wishful thinking? One would believe so. Ringo was sweet and gentle and just so…Ringo. There was absolutely no other way to describe him. He set the standard for others who unknowingly followed in his path. What a brilliant path that was.

The kiss was at first something quick and innocent. He pulled back a fraction of an inch to gaze into her eyes, a question of whether or not he could continue lingering in his own. She gave him a small smile which he took as an affirmation. But this time it was Cristina that initiated the kiss. She grabbed a hold of his collar and pulled him closer. If Ringo wasn't currently occupied he would have chuckled.

"Oi, get a room you two."

They broke apart and Cristina scowled at a smirking John.

"I saw this coming," he said coolly as he smiled at the pair. "I'm psychic, you know."

"Are you, now?" Ringo asked. "So what am I going to do next?"

John pushed himself away from the bar and dusted off his pants. He thought for a second and a wicked grin spread across his face. He gestured for Ringo to lean forward and whispered something in his ear. Ringo's blue eyes widened and he pulled away.

"How'd you know?" he whispered.

"I know everything."

"Well Cristina wants to know," Cristina interjected.

"You'll find out in a matter of minutes, love," John told her matter-of-factly. He threw a wink in her direction and dragged an unsuspecting girl through the crowd.

"Ringo?"

"Hmm?"

"What's next?"

"John sort of ruined the moment, didn't he?" he chuckled and then frowned.

"Kind of."

"Well, where did we leave off?"

There was that brilliant smile of his that melted her heart and made her knees weak. She gripped onto the edge of the bar for support and offered a timid smile in return. She wasn't used to someone like _him_ flirting with _her_. Usually it was the creeps that made a come-on to her, or just people that were nice enough but she wasn't interested in. But Ringo…oh, Ringo.

He stood and offered his hand, which she graciously took. They wove their way through the thick smoke and mass of human bodies that made up the Cavern. They ended in a little alcove hidden away from inquiring eyes where they sat on the bench provided. For a while they just talked and got to know one another better. Cristina learned things of his family, such as the fact that his parents were divorced and he was raised by his mother and stepfather. She found out he was a sickly, accident-prone child who dropped out of school to pursue a more practical living and was (obviously) a major fan of music with a secret desire to become an actor, like her. It was truly enthralling to know the man behind the drums, so to speak.

But soon the tension grew too much. They pounced on one another (figuratively, of course). Their lips melded together and they clung to each other as if their lives depended on it. In a way it did. When would they get another chance?

They were vaguely aware of people passing a few feet away and the abrupt departure of someone. Time was unknown to them-there was only Cristina and Ringo; no one and nothing else mattered. Finally, though, they emerged for air, both smiling immensely.

"Shall we talk a walk, then?" Ringo suggested a little breathlessly.

"Sure."

The crisp air lifted the light tendrils of Cristina's dirty blond hair as she walked the lonely streets of Liverpool hand in hand with Ringo Starr. Above them, the diamond encrusted indigo sky glittered marvelously as if it were smiling down at the pair. The moon hovered high in the atmosphere casting long shadows on the surrounding area. It was all very peaceful.

Cristina was going to comment on the beauty of the night when her thoughts were interrupted by someone roughly pushing between them.

"Watch it!" she shouted.

"I'm sorry, I'll explain later!" The person called back. She realized as he raced down the street that it was Paul.

"Wonder what's eating him," Ringo voiced his thoughts aloud.

It was only after about a dozen girls came barreling down the deserted way, save for them, that they knew the answer to that. It was also then that they were forced to run as well once the girls discovered the identity of the person they so rudely shoved aside in their quest for Paul.

/

Smoking tended to give one the illusion of being _cool_ but right now, Paul was paying the price for every cigarette that had ever touched his lips. He was in the process of running for his life but unfortunately it was not as easy as it had once been when he was younger. His lungs were on fire and he was afraid he would collapse from exhaustion and lack of air any moment now.

A reasonable distance away, a dozen pair of high heel clad feet pounded against the cracked pavement. They were hunters on the prowl for their prey. For days they had been scoping Liverpool and the surrounding area for any sign of the gorgeous men that made up their favorite band. What they planned to do once they found them one can only assume. No one would stop until they got what they wanted. The eager lionesses wanted him. He wanted anything _but_ them. It was a classic win-lose situation.

"Is that him up there?" one of the girls asked, bouncing on the spot in anticipation.

"I'm not sure," another answered. "Why don't we call him?"

"Believe me, Natalie, that won't work," the girl who was clearly the leader rolled her eyes.

"This could be our last chance to ever find him!"

"Hey Paul!" the first hollered, ignoring the others bickering.

Paul, the dolt that he is, actually looked back.

"It's him, it's him!"

Paul cursed himself for his momentary lack of logic. He gulped in the cool air and continued running again. He was starting to think the whole situation rather ridiculous. Oh, Annie was definitely going to get it.

"Hello there, handsome."

Skidding to an abrupt stop he looked up into the eyes of a…no, that most definitely could _not_ be a woman.

"My name is Victoria, but you can call me Tori," the…thing said in its husky voice. He/she was at least a foot taller than Paul and had somehow managed to squeeze himself/herself into a tight red floor-length gown. He/she wore a bright blond wig positioned awkwardly upon his/her head and was batting those long false eyelashes at Paul. His stomach squirmed as he took in the stubble lining the upper lip and the large hairy mole on the cheek and the way the person (it had to be a man, right?) angled his hairy leg in what he assumed was supposed to be an inviting gesture. Sorry, Paul was going to decline said invitation.

"Are you looking for a bit of fun, sweetie?"

"Um, no thanks," Paul answered, backing away slowly.

"But surely someone such as you could use a bit of loving from someone like me." He leaned closer and the coarse synthetic hair of the wig tickled Paul's cheek. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable. "I could make it worth your while."

"No, I don't think I'll need your services tonight. Thanks, though."

"Oh, come on! I've never been with a famous person!"

"I wonder why," he muttered.

Victoria suddenly grabbed his arm. "I'll give you a discount, how's that sound?"

"My answer is still no."

"Listen here, buddy," he was no longer making an effort to use that annoying feminine voice anymore. "You're not any better than me so why don't you just get this over with, huh?"

"Excuse me, sir?"

They both turned their attention to a little girl of about five in a flowery dressing gown shifting nervously from foot to foot. Her eyes were a gentle meadow green and her hair was so red it was almost brown. She gave a little cough, waiting for one of them to acknowledge her.

"What can I do for you, sweetheart?" Victoria asked, releasing Paul.

"I actually wanted to speak to him, if you don't mind ma'am."

Victoria smiled and patted the little girl's head. She didn't notice the way the young stranger winced and scowled. "Anything for you, cutie."

Paul breathed a sigh of relief as the angry prostitute walked off. The girl extended her hand towards him, wanting him to take it and he did. She led him into the apartment building a few feet away and up the stairs into one of the flats. He reluctantly followed her in but his desire for a hideaway increased when he heard his former pursuers down below. Quickly, he shut the door behind him.

"Thanks for that," he said. The girl stood in the small foyer and merely stared at him in silence.

"You're welcome," she replied before sitting in a chair beside the window in the little kitchen. "I didn't want him to kill you or anything."

He chuckled. "That makes two of us."

He noticed her staring again but when he turned his eyes on her she didn't shy away. "You look familiar."

"Do I?"

She nodded. "You look like my favorite singer. Oh, what was his name? Peter something. Peter McCarthy maybe? I don't know."

"Paul McCartney you mean?"

"Yeah, him! He's great. My mummy plays his band's records all the time for me. She says she knows him but I don't believe her."

"Where is your mother, sweetie?" he asked, realizing they were alone in the small apartment.

"At home."

"Isn't that here?"

"No, this is Henry's home. Mummy's home is on…oh, I don't remember what the street is called."

"So then where's Henry?"

"He went to the store." She glanced at the clock over the kitchen sink. "He should be here soon." She returned to gazing out of the window. "Is your name Paul?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"I noticed how tense you got when those girls ran past. They're still out there. They're looking for someone named Paul so I assume that's you?" She looked at him again and he nodded. "Why are they looking for you?"

"Beats me." He plopped himself into a chair beside her. "What's your name?"

She glanced at the clock again and frowned. "Maggie."

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise."

"You're very proper, you know that?"

"Mummy says it's the best way to go. She says my sister's the same way."

"Where's your sister?"

Her frown deepened. "I don't know," she whispered and looked back at the clock. "Any minute now," she muttered to herself.

"Maggie, how long has Henry been gone?"

"Not too long," she sniffed.

"Are you lying to me?"

"I think the coast is clear, Mr. Paul."

The two stared at each other again, waiting for the other to break. Maggie's eyes grew cold and distant. Paul, startled, finally looked away. That look was too familiar.

"Thanks again, Maggie."

"Anytime, Mr. Paul." She had returned to staring unseeingly out the window. "Try not to upset anymore trannies, okay?"

"Okay."

He cast one more look at the little girl who seemed much older than she truly was and disappeared. Tonight had definitely been…interesting, to say the least.


	8. The Encounter

**Author's Note: Hey-o! It's currently raining like a mofo here. But unfortunately that stupid tropical storm wasn't enough to cancel school in SoFlo. Damn. Well anyway, I was going to update on the anniversary of Abbey Road's release (which was last Sunday if you didn't know!) buttt obviously that didn't happen so yeah. I'm pretty shocked by the positive feeback I got from last chapter, especially since it was so last minute. Thanks guys! You're simply the best :D You're reviews/reads/favorites/alerts/money(wait, what? Just ignore that.) are greatly appreciated! I'm not sure if this chappie will be as good as last, but it's a nice lead in to the next one. Read on please and thanks! And while you do that I'll be watching this friggin crazy storm pass by :)**

**PS for my fellow Star Wars nerds, did you hear about the movies getting rereleased in theaters in 3D? Stoked!  
PPS I really like the word 'chutzpah'. I'm going to have to use that more in everyday conversation.**

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Paul couldn't help but chance a fleeting glimpse of Annie every few minutes. He couldn't, for the life of him, focus on the script presented to him and the boys. Not that it wasn't interesting. Actually, it kind of wasn't. It was a bit of a drag, really. He wasn't the acting type. That was Jane's thing, not his. These next few months were going to be hell.

Annie was seated with Cristina and George Martin in the sound booth. She was wearing the glasses that resembled those worn by Buddy Holly. That's why she originally picked them instead of the pair her parents wanted her to have. She was absolutely nuts about Holly. She gnawed her lip as she stared at a piece of paper intently, commenting every now and then about something the other two said. She looked lost and more than a little frustrated. Paul desperately wanted to know what was wrong with her.

"So what do you think about the script?" George asked once Dick Lester had left.

John scrunched his nose in distaste. "I hate it. Why are we doing this again Brian?"

"It's what the masses want," their manager replied with a sigh.

"Come on guys, it won't be that bad!" Ringo volunteered.

"Thank heavens for you, Rich."

Annie, followed by an amazed looking Cristina, finally walked into the studio with a frown on her face. "I don't like this." She shook the thick script in her hand for emphasis.

"That's not for you to decide, love," Brian said with a tiny bit of acid leaking into his tone.

She glared at him. "Listen, you swine, Uncle George asked for my opinion so I'm giving it."

The boys started cracking up. John, gasping for breath, attempted to speak but failed miserably. When he was finally coherent he wiped the tears from his eyes and smiled at his manager. "She sure pegged you, didn't she?"

Brian's face colored considerably. "I don't appreciate that tone."

"I don't care," Annie said sitting beside Paul, who was still chuckling.

"Think we can add that in the script?" John asked, looking to Annie instead of Brian who was about to answer. "The swine thing, I mean."

"Maybe it'll make this crap thing a little better," she muttered, scribbling something in the margins of the paper. "Who hired Lester? He's terrible!"

All eyes were on Brian, his face still bright red.

"Well, if that's what floats your boat."

The angry spluttering man stood abruptly and crossed over to the sound booth. George Martin was going to get a piece of his mind about this little _problem_ he called his niece. This girl had another thing coming if she thought she could waltz into _his_ studio and tell him what was right and what was wrong. The nerve of some people, really!

"Oh, he hates you!" Cristina laughed, watching the sound booth where the two older men were currently in what appeared to be a heated discussion.

"Love me or hate me, you're still thinking about me," Annie replied with a smirk.

"Well she's certainly from Liverpool, isn't she?" Ringo said.

George looked at her with nothing but respect and admiration. And maybe something else but that doesn't have to be mentioned right at this moment. He watched as she turned back to the script and began adding or crossing out more things as she saw fit. She really was something else. In all of his life he had never met anyone with more…chutzpah than her. Other than John, he supposed. Come to think of it, Annie was pretty much Lennon in female form; except she had more class than him, thank God.

He was currently thinking about the technical beginning of their interesting…relationship for lack of a better term. It sort of happened before he had first kissed her but it really picked up after that. Though he was still a little sore about the way she ditched him for John he got over it. There was positively no way he could stay mad at her. When she bit her lip and batted her long eyelashes at him it was simply impossible. The day after that she purposely remained by his side while the group was at the studio. When he went for a smoke break she followed him. Before he could even light up his cigarette she crushed their lips together in a kiss that he took as an apology for the night before. Apology or no, he definitely forgave her.

While he was silently watching her bicker with John over something or other he noticed something rather peculiar. Paul was staring at Annie intently, seeming to be deep in thought. Whatever was on his mind must have disturbed him because he let out a frustrated sigh.

"You alright there, Paul?" George asked.

"Yeah, I've just got a bit of a headache," Paul answered untruthfully. He ran his hands through his hair and left the studio, sighing again. That was strange.

"Damn it, Annie!" John suddenly exclaimed.

"Fuck, Lennon!" she shouted back.

"You, my friend, are a fucking genius!"

"Tell me something I didn't know, you prick!"

Their words sounded harsh but the two of them were grinning like idiots.

"Did we miss something?" Cristina asked Ringo, whom she had been in deep conversation with a second before.

"Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about, love," Ringo winked and she blushed. He was starting to become quite found of the States, particularly the girls they produced.

Annie leapt up suddenly and stood on her chair. She began waving her arms erratically, looking relatively foolish. "Uncle George!" she yelled.

"Annabelle, do sit please," the sound producer said into his microphone. "That's not very lady like."

"I told you not to call me that!" In a whisper only the four around her could hear she added, "Fuck lady like behavior."

"Excuse me young lady, I do not appreciate these snide remarks you are no doubt directing towards me. What did those Americans teach you?"

"I resent that!" Cristina crossed her arms and stuck her tongue out at the man in the booth.

Annie huffed and stomped her foot. "Can we just get on with what I have to say? You don't want me to start talking like me mum, yeah?"

"What's her mum talk like?" Ringo asked.

Cristina, eyes wide, told him, "Mrs. Holloway called to check on her one time and Annie said something that's typical Annie and her mom completely freaked out. When she gets mad she has the mouth of the sailor, which is where her daughter gets it. Let's just say I've never heard such…colorful and loud vocabulary." Ringo nodded in understanding.

"What is it you have to say Annabelle? I mean Annie," George added quickly when a particularly nasty word began to form on her lips.

"Me and this bastard here fixed the script!" Annie cried gleefully, gesturing towards John.

"There was nothing wrong with the script!" Brian Epstein, who had stolen the mic from George, shouted. Annie flashed him a very rude gesture. John snickered into his hand, giving her the thumbs up.

"Annie Elle that is enough!" George said coming out of his haven, the one place he could escape the mad people he tended to involve himself with. "I will look over the script and leave it for the director to see, alright?"

"Yes Uncle George," she said in a sweet voice. Her uncle nearly swooned. What a sucker.

"Now please be a good girl and _behave_."

"Of course! Don't I always?" She allowed him to help her down and when he was gone they all began laughing hysterically.

"Boy, do you have him wrapped around your finger!" Ringo said in between chuckles.

"It comes in handy," Annie said. "Crissy, we better go."

"Why?"

"My colorfully speaking mother wants us for tea."

"Oh!" She instantly stood. "When were we supposed to be there? Are we late? Goodness, we better get there like now!"

"Relax, will ya? It's always good to be fashionably late." Regardless of Annie's comment Cristina bolted for the door with a hasty goodbye to the others and a blown kiss in Ringo's direction.

Annie chuckled and stood as well. "Walk me out George?"

John scoffed. "Need a babysitter, do ya?"

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

Her ever observant eye noticed the cocky grin on his face waver faintly. "You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

She smirked, purposely ignoring the feeling of guilt that comment gave her. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't." Turning to Ringo she said, "I'll see you later Rich" and turned on her heel.

George glanced at the laughing figure that was John and shook his head. No class, indeed. He obediently fell in to step beside Annie and the two walked out into the brisk Liverpool sunshine. This was a rather welcoming change from the miserable rain. He was going to comment on this but Annie efficiently silenced him with a swift kiss.

"What was that for?" he asked, smiling despite his initial shock.

"I missed you," she murmured and wrapped her arms around him.

"I've been here the whole time, love."

"I miss being here with just _you_. It's not the same when people like John are in the room." Her voice was muffled by his shirt but he still heard her. The smile on his face broadened. _She missed him._

"Why don't we do something about that?"

She lifted her head and rested her chin against his chest, looking up at him. "Like what?"

"Why don't we go out one night? Just the two of us, I mean."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"I'd love that!" She stood on tiptoe and kissed him again, this time longer than before. They broke apart only at the sound of approaching footsteps.

"You two are quite the happy couple, aren't you?"

Annie frowned at Paul as he put out his cigarette with the toe of his shoe. He looked back up at them and smiled. There was something off with him… "Cristina's waiting for you, you know."

"Shoot, I forgot." She finally released George and stepped away. "Mum's going to kill me!"

"How's she doing? Haven't seen her since you left."

"She's good. Same old, same old, you know?"

He nodded. "Maybe I'll go visit her one day when I see me dad."

Annie smiled. "She'd like that. You too George! You've got to meet mum." She turned to leave but stopped. As an afterthought she kissed George once more and gave Paul a chaste peck on the cheek. "See ya!"

They watched as she jogged down the street towards Cristina. George had this goofy obnoxious smile that Paul wanted to smack off of his face. He stared at his friend with his head cocked to the side waiting for him to look his way.

When he did he looked puzzled and asked, "What?"

Paul shook his head and smirked. "Nothing." He didn't have it in him to tell his mate he was a fool for falling under the Holloway spell. It never ended well.

"Annie Elle, you get you're ass over here!" Cristina shouted, causing several people to glare at her as if she was scum.

"Pipe down, love!" Annie said when she finally caught up. "We don't want these people to have a reason to send you back across the water, do we?"

The pair began walking, making idle chat about random things. Cristina was in the act of telling a particularly funny joke about a goat, a rabbi, and a drunk when someone called out to them.

"Annie!"

They whipped around and Annie nearly had a raging fit over who her eyes landed on. This was definitely not someone she wanted to bump into on the street, or anywhere for that matter.

She slapped on a false smile. "Jane!"

Cristina elbowed her and whispered, "That's not-?"

The other woman approached them, a little breathless, and beamed. Curse her for being so ungodly gorgeous _and_ having red hair that actually did her justice. "Paul told me you were here but I just didn't believe it!"

"Here I am," Annie responded meekly. "Jane this is my best friend Cristina. Cristina this is the lovely Jane Asher."

"A pleasure to meet you." Jane stuck out her hand and Cristina shook it.

"No, the pleasure is mine. I've heard _so_ much about you!" She brushed off Annie's glare with an impassive smile in her direction.

"All good things I hope," Jane joked, completely oblivious to the exchange between the two that just went on.

"But of course. Annie told me you were like a sister to her."

Yeah, well Annie thought this was positively ridiculous. Jane beamed. "Did you really? That's so sweet of you!"

"I did, yeah," Annie decided to play along. "Goodness, I've missed you Janie!"

"Not as much as I've missed you." She threw her arms around Annie. This was a little much. "Listen, my parents are having this dinner party this weekend. Paul's going to be there, I'm not sure about the other boys, but I want you two to come!"

Annie and Cristina shared (fake) looks of pleasure. "We'd love to!"

"Great! We're still in the same house so you should be able to find it, right? Good, here's my number, give me a call sometime!" She handed Annie a folded piece of paper. "We redheads have to stick together, you know?" With a wink she sauntered off the way they had just come.

Annie unconsciously balled the piece of paper in her hand and rounded on Cristina. "What the hell was that?"

"There is a method to my madness, mind you," she explained as they started walking again.

"And that is?"

Grinning wickedly she said, "You want to get Paul back, don't you?"

"I never said anything of the sort."

"If you get on Jane's good side it'll bug the hell out of him."

Annie stopped abruptly. "That…that is actually pure genius, you evil little thing."

"I know."

"It'd be even more brilliant if I essentially had a reason to use that plan."

"Annie, dear, we've lived together for the past few years. Don't think I don't know you."

"Whatever."

"She didn't seem that bad, Jane I mean."

Annie scowled. "You don't know her like I do, not yet anyway."

"Paul must have a thing for redheads, huh?"

She made a very unladylike snort that would have had Uncle George cringing. "Just quit while you're ahead."


	9. The Early Birds

**Author's Note: This had to be done. This chapter is completely irrelevant to the plotline but I felt it just HAD to be written. I apologize if it kind of sucks but it was another last minute thing. Anyway, the reason I was so intent on adding this to the story can be summed up to one thing: the amazing John Lennon's birthday. I swear I almost cried when I saw the new Google theme for him. I'm such a sap. Anyway, I had the urge to do something for the day so here's this. I'll also probably listen to every single one of his songs or go to the cool Beatles tribute thing going on. Are any of you lovelies doing anything to celebrate the birth of this genius? :) So yeah, here's the next chapter and I hope you enjoy the wonderful song I put together somewhere in there.**

**Happy birthday, John, we love you! (heart)**

* * *

John trudged up the walkway to his home, feeling a heavy weariness sink into his overused muscles. Today had been an exhausting day. The lads were required on the movie set for an obnoxiously long time but he had been allowed to leave early in order to promote his new book. Unfortunately, he had been hassled about that. Everyone thought he was choosing his writing over the band and the movie.

"Aye, are we not important to you?"

"I see how it is. The band means nothing to you anymore."

"That's not fair! We're working all day and he gets to leave and take a breather!"

He bit back an angry retort to each of those accusations and nodded curtly to them all before taking his leave. One would think simply promoting a silly little book wouldn't be that bad but the truth was, it was excruciating. Being a Beatle did not help in the least. The hope he had of a nice quiet reading or interview was wise in theory but highly impractical.

Sighing, he turned sleep-starved eyes to the sky. There the sun dangled low above the city. Whatever higher power there was used that exposed area to paint an abstract image of dancing ribbons gleaming red and gold crisscrossing among the heavens. John happily observed the vision before entering the house.

"Surprise!"

He blinked rapidly, eyes slowly adjusting to the sudden brightening of the room. A group of people were assembled, grinning widely at him.

"What's going on here?" he asked suspiciously.

"Daddy's birthday!" Little Julian waddled over, his arms outstretched in an attempt to bring his father closer. "Happy," he smiled once he was settled in John's arms.

"It's not my birthday, dear," John replied with a kiss to the tip of his son's nose.

"'Course it is," Ringo beamed and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Happy birthday, mate."

"Really, what's going on?"

Annie approached and reached for Julian, who happily jumped into her arms. "We were having arts-and-crafts time and he wanted to draw you something."

"And he insisted on making this," Paul added handing over a paper covered in bright images. A slow grin spread across John's face. Smack in the center was a large figure he assumed was him done in green squiggles. Around that were varied sized misshapen circles floating about that must have been balloons. Several blobs with dots for eyes were positioned near more colorful blobs. It was a child's idea of a birthday scene.

"Birthday, daddy!" Julian chirped enthusiastically.

"So happy early birthday, John!" Cristina announced, jazz hands and all.

"Why are you all going along with this?" John asked with a chuckle.

"We thought it'd be fun," George answered, shrugging. "Besides, who wants to wait until October for their special day?"

John smirked. "I see. Alright, then, where're me presents?"

Cristina boldly stepped forward and thrust another paper in his face. "While Jules made that I did this."

John raised his brows and carefully unfolded the sheet. What he saw astounded him. It was an intricate sketch of him wearing his glasses, guitar in hand. He recognized the outfit from something he wore the other day. Everything was just perfect, even the thoughtful facial expression.

"Wow, Cris, didn't know you had it in you!"

She smiled sheepishly. "Don't you ever have those moments where you look at something and you immediately think its art? That it's something that has to be put down and frozen in time? Well I hate to admit it but you looked nice that day so I just had to get it down."

"I always look nice."

"Oh hush, you."

She was instantly stunned when he pulled her in for a hug. That kind of thing wasn't really normal for John Lennon.

"Thanks, I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome," she responded in a daze. She looked to Annie who was laughing silently into Julian's hair.

"Well what's next?" John asked once he released the still shell-shocked Cristina.

"Um," George began uncertainly. "Me, Paul, and Rings sort of came up with this." He glanced over his shoulder at Paul who had just grabbed both of their guitars. Ringo positioned himself behind a table, two spoons in hand, and they were set. They began playing a familiar tune with a new set of lyrics.

_Happy birthday, yeah, yeah, yeah  
__Happy birthday, yeah, yeah, yeah  
__It's your birthday, yeah, you really should be glad  
__You know you're such an ass  
__But even though we still  
__Couldn't let this moment pass  
__Because you're almost halfway over the hill  
__But it's not really your birthday  
__But we thought you'd like to know  
__That we love you enough to put on this show, oooo!  
__Happy (not) birthday, yeah, yeah, yeah  
__Happy (not) birthday, yeah, yeah, yeah  
__It's (not) your birthday, yeah, you really should be glad  
__We don't know what else to say  
__But you get the idea  
__So enjoy your not-birthday  
__And eat a brilliant tortilla!  
__Because it's not your birthday  
__So enjoy it while it lasts  
__It's not your birthday  
__And hopefully you won't be in a cast!_

The song went no further for everyone was suddenly in hysterics. John clutched his sides as he laughed at the ridiculous words that actually came out of his friends' mouths.

"'Eat a brilliant tortilla?' What the hell?"

"It was a last minute thing, you should be glad we came up with anything at all!" Paul said, trying not to laugh himself.

"I personally thought it was a great song," Ringo said.

"Here, we wrote it down so you could treasure it forever." George handed him another paper.

"Thanks, my life is now complete!" John said with a playful roll of his eyes. Then he turned to Annie. "Where's your present?"

"I am a present in myself, Lennon."

"Yeah, okay."

"Let's put these up!" Cristina suggested happily as she grabbed the papers from John. "Look, this is you working on some platinum record you all are bound to put out." She gestured to her picture and handed it to Paul to hang on the wall.

"And this is said platinum record," George grinned as he took the (horrible) birthday song.

"And this is you when the world ends!" Annie interjected, shaking Julian's picture in his face for dramatic effect. He laughed and swatted her away.

John sat himself at the dining room table and surveyed his surroundings. Paul and Cristina were bickering over something as they tried to determine how to display the pictures for all to see. George and Ringo were laughing and producing random beats and chords. His eyes lingered a little bit longer on Annie as she played with Julian and clapped when he told her a story he made up on his own. In an odd sort of dysfunctional way these people were his family. He had spent most of his life so far trying to find that and in a shocked realization, it dawned on him that these psychotic people were exactly that.

So what if it wasn't really his birthday? The fact that they banded together on some whimsical idea brought upon by his young son meant that they truly _cared_ for him. He smiled faintly. Having friends that would subject him to some ridiculous event and serenade you with a crap song was what made life enjoyable. Honestly, he couldn't imagine living without them. It would be like living life in peace. What fun would that be? No, a peaceful existence would be nice. He may be a dreamer, yes, but a world where everyone lived as one would be pleasant. But at this moment that was rather irrelevant.

His attention snapped back to those around him as Cynthia entered the room carrying a cake on a tray.

"Not you too?" he asked in faux horror.

"Yes, the false-birthday miscreants got to me!" She giggled and presented the delicacy before him. "I was making it anyway so I figured I'd adjust it to go along with today."

John smiled and grabbed her hand before she pulled it away, lacing their fingers together. "Thank you, Cyn."

She grinned back at him and lightly traced a thin finger through the cake frosting. He watched curiously as she raised the unclean finger and tapped it on his nose. The others began laughing again but Cynthia stayed silent as their eyes remained locked.

Little by little she leaned forward and placed her lips against his cheek. When she pulled back there was a mischievous glint in her eye.

Maybe this birthday thing wasn't so bad.

"Happy birthday, John," she whispered.

Time seemed to slow in that moment but now everything was sped up once more. Around him everyone was bustling about, chatting and attempting to get a slice of Cynthia's homemade double chocolate fudge dessert. Many thoughts were mulling about in his head as he celebrated his not-birthday but only one really stood out:

You know what they say- the first mouse gets the cheese. But the early birds get the cake.


	10. The Date

**Author's Note: Hello again! So I wanted to throw out thanks and virtual hugs to anyone who's read, reviewed, favorited, alerted, blah you get it :) Thanks guys! You're all the greatest people I've never met! Kay well this is one of those chapters that I wrote while I should've been paying attention in class but honestly, what fun would that be? (that's probably why I'm failing math but no one has to know that) Anywho! I kinda like this chapter. And I sincerely hope you all do too :D You could tell me if you do in a review. Or maybe comment on some lingering questions I'm sure you may have ;)**

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Annie never liked her appearance very much. She saw it as something unattractive that could always be improved upon. Frowning in the mirror she shut her eyes and willed them to be a color other than that sickly green. She wished the obnoxious freckles tainting her cheeks would sink into her pale skin and disappear forever. But what she hated most of all was her hair.

She raked her fingers through the long ghastly scarlet curls and sighed. You didn't see many redheads marching about The Pool, or much of England for that matter, so she stuck out like a sore thumb. Anyone could notice her a mile away. The hideous color was also the factor behind many of her childhood nicknames like "Little Red", "Ginger" or "Pippi" and even "Flame". God, she hated that. People that didn't even know her called her some shit like "Gingy" and she'd always want to make sure they never had kids again. Maybe Flame was an appropriate title…

This was why she often wondered what everyone else saw. When she looked in the mirror she saw someone that was strictly average, or even something below that line. On more than one occasion, however, people told her she was absolutely lovely and they envied her natural good looks and vibrant hair color. Why weren't they in a loony bin?

But then there was George. They had been sitting in his flat watching the telly. He held her in his comforting circle of his arms and stroked her horridly colored hair.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he whispered.

"Don't say that," she sighed.

"Why not? You are. I love everything about you, even the hair you seem to despise so much." He kissed the top of her head.

"About that, yeah. I was actually thinking of dying it."

"You can't!"

"Why not?"

"It's what makes you, _you._ It's sort of a defining characteristic."

"Well maybe I don't want to be me," she mumbled into his chest.

At that point he lifted her chin with a single finger and kissed her, effectively silencing all protests. She smiled wryly at his methods but they did indeed work. She never voiced any complaint at the multitude of compliments he threw her way.

Frowning at her reflection once more she decided she would just have to get over her issues and just accept herself as the way she was. Maybe it wasn't that bad. George did seem to like it. And right now all of this _was_ for George. They were going out tonight, something she couldn't really make herself get excited over.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

She glanced up and saw Cristina leaning in the doorway with her arms crossed.

"It's nothing."

She sat cross-legged on the bed and smiled. "Are you worried about your date tonight?"

"Not really."

"You know, if you keep your face like that it'll stick."

"Har har."

"What's a-matter Annie?"

She sighed and sat on the bed beside her. "I don't know. I just feel…weird."

"Well snap out of it! George will want you to be completely focused for whatever activities he has planned tonight." She winked and Annie scoffed.

"That's just it. He's a male, a Liverpool musician at that. What I'm sure he wants I just can't give to him."

"Why not? I thought you liked him."

"Just because I like him doesn't mean I want to jump his bones every time I see him. It'll just feel wrong."

"I don't understand."

"Me neither."

They sat in silence for a while contemplating the current situation. Then Cristina said quietly, "Is this about Paul?"

Annie stood, slightly irritated. "Why the fuck do you think everything is about that prick? I've gotten on just fine without having anything to do with him so why would he suddenly affect my decisions now, huh?"

"But I just—"

"I've got to go. See you later."

Cristina stared after Annie's retreating figure and snorted. That girl was unbelievable. She could be in denial all she wanted but she, as in Cristina, truly knew what was going on here. Meanwhile, she had other things to worry about besides her idiotic friend, such as a blossoming problem that threatened to ruin her life as she knew it…

/.\

"Will you tell me where we're going now?"

George simply smiled and continued leading Annie through the darkened Liverpool streets. When he offered to take her out, just the two of them, he panicked when he realized he didn't know where to take her. But a light bulb went on after she left and he knew the perfect place, which is where they were headed now.

The atmosphere was beginning to resemble that of the spring season. The air wasn't as crisp and bone-cutting as it was during the winter but rather a comfortable temperature that was neither too warm nor too cold.

The change of season meant a change of attitude for the boys, who bore the symptoms of a long and grueling cold spell. They had all become rather irritable (something that wasn't uncommon for John) and troublesome, which had Brian Epstein wondering if he off-d them if they would be missed. Now, however, there was a slight improvement in their demeanors. No one was quite positive if it were the fresh spring or the arrival of the two lady friends. Either way, the Beatles would live another day.

Tonight the sky resembled a dark inky blue mess with great balls of light scattered haphazardly across its expanse. It truly was an amazing sight. Of late, George often found himself outside marveling at the beauty of the world above, now that the weather was reasonable of course. Which is how he came to be roaming around an unusually dark neighborhood with Annie.

He found himself going to great lengths to impress this girl who he had despised as a child. Now that they were older, he realized he had been missing out all of those years ago. She really was a special girl. He wasn't sure the extent of his feelings just yet but for now he was satisfied with just spending an evening with her.

"George, I'm not a big fan of surprises!"

"Hush now, not too much further."

She huffed indignantly and pinched his arm.

After a few more minutes of stumbling through the dark, George pulled her into a vacant, slightly overgrown field lit only by the moon and stars overhead. Smiling, he watched as she stared around the spot a tad bit confused.

"What's this?"

He pulled her towards the center of the area where a checkered blanket lay smoothed against the ground. He sat himself and pulled her into his lap. "This is where I come to get away from it all. It's a nice quiet spot that no one ever bothers coming to, save for me and now you. I like stargazing. Ever since Paul told me how he discovered this place when we were younger I'd come and just look to the stars."

She scoffed and could see his puzzled face in the moonlight. "Oh, not you! That's actually really nice." She placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "It's just that _I'm _the one who found this place, not him. I would come to it when—" She stopped abruptly and looked away. "I'd come to it when I wanted to be alone," she finally said in a quiet voice.

"Is something wrong?"

"No." She slid out of his lap and stretched across the blanket, dragging him down with her. "I like this."

"I do too," he said, lacing his fingers with hers.

For what seemed like hours the two sat in a hushed peace. The only sounds that could be heard were the steadiness of their breathing and the hum of cars passing on the highway a ways away. Annie absentmindedly traced a constellation with her finger, enjoying the current state of affairs she was in.

"Annie?" George propped himself on an elbow and glanced at her. Her wild hair was fanned about, creating an aura of beauty and tranquility.

"Hmm?" she inquired, hand stopped mid-trace.

"Tell me about yourself."

She sat up, never letting go of his hand. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything and everything."

Brow furrowed, she thought hard for a second. "Um, well me birthday is the twentieth of January. My favorite color is yellow. I'm a big Jane Austen fan. Shocking, I know," she added at the look on his face. "I'm not objected to Poe, though. I was a vegetarian for three months but that's nearly impossible to keep up with when you have a mum like mine. I studied to become a journalist. I used to play the guitar…I don't know what else to say."

He nodded slowly. "You played the guitar? Why'd you stop?"

"I dunno; I just didn't feel like doing it anymore." There was more to the reason but she was grateful he didn't press it. It was something no one knew, not even Cristina, and she wasn't about to tell _George_ of all people.

"You should play sometime for me."

"I will if you will."

He smiled. There was something he wanted to tell her but he couldn't work up the courage to do it. When he was about to say it she stood and grinned.

"Tag, you're it!" She dashed across the field and turned to look at him.

"Annie!"

"Come and get me Georgie!"

Laughing he chased after her but her small stature made her much faster. She darted this way and that way, but never close enough for him to catch her. Occasionally she would dance just at the edge of his grasp but when he leaned forward she'd twirl away, unable to contain her glee.

Finally, though, George felt as if he had had enough. He leaned against the dilapidated fence and searched through the dense gloom that lingered in the air for a sign of red.

"Boo," a disembodied voice called from beside him. He nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Don't do that!"

"Did I scare you?" Annie smirked, leaning alongside the fence as well.

"You could've been a bloodthirsty zombie for all I know."

"I may be bloodthirsty but I'm no zombie." She stood on tiptoe and placed a kiss on the vital vein that resided in his neck.

He looked into her eyes, those oh so pretty gems that held the mystery of her being. Every single thought or feeling she had swum across the emerald sea and was made plain to anyone who dared peer into the depths, but it was always too far to fully comprehend. That's why she was so hard to crack- that indecipherable wall was always in place.

"Annie, I—"

His words were lost as a single fat drop of water plopped against his cheek. Annie wiped the moisture away with her finger and smiled as more came to take its place. The rain fell heavy now, drenching them both.

"Annie?" he tried again.

She turned to him, her eyes alive with joy. She kissed him on the lips and when she broke free she frolicked about the field and danced in the rain, something she told him she always wanted to do.

"I love you Annie Holloway," he whispered to the wind, a little defeated, before joining her.


	11. The Memories

**AN: Hey! As I write this a little ant is crawling across my screen. His name is Fernando. He's my new best friend. I apologize for not updating last Saturday like I usually do but..I don't even remember why I didn't. Something about some test I took that day. Eh it's not important, what IS important is that I'm updating now! :D I had a really good day. Like really good. So I figured I'd post another chapter to spread the goodness of my day! How were your days today? :) Anyway, this chapter is really long. Like really long. I tried to cut it down but I felt like none of this would be able to stand on its own so I've just smushed it all together. I've no idea the personality of Jane Asher but the way I wrote her makes her seem kind of annoying. At least to me. Well, thanks for reviewing and all of that other nonsense that we writers live for! You should continue that with this chapter ;)**

**PS I met someone named Cristina today. Oddly enough she's quirky just like the Cristina I created. Though I don't think the imaginary Cristina would threaten to punch me in the face but who knows?**

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_

_The streets of Liverpool lay vacant and bare. The place resembled something of a ghost town. Earlier in the day rain battered against the restless city, falling in buckets and scattering every life form. Anything with a heart beat ran for cover to avoid the risk of drowning. Perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration. Either way no one wanted to chance it._

_Overhead the sky hanging just above the office buildings, work yards, supermarkets, and the averagely simple homes churned a dismal gray. The sun struggled to break free from its gloomy prison. A few feeble rays shone through the thick clouds, barely cutting through the dense fog lingering above the earth._

_In a sleepy neighborhood of the city two boys were squatting on their hams around a peculiar brown bag. The older of the two repeatedly flicked open a cigarette lighter, an obnoxious smirk painted on his face. He glanced at his partner, nearly a spitting image of himself, who was biting a lip to contain a laugh. They both looked towards the stormy skies where a bolt of lightening whipped across the gray, followed by a cacophonous roll of thunder. It was now or never._

_With a nod of his head, the elder boy began to walk and signaled for the other to follow with the bag. He silently obeyed but kept the foul specimen at an arm's length. The pair hastily, yet covertly dashed across the gleaming rain-slicked street and stood before a house that seemed to be the same as theirs._

_The journey up the never-ending walkway was pierced with a strange thwacking noise. They glimpsed their surroundings warily, a slight fear tainting their minds. Finally they stood before the front door with a faint hint of adrenaline coursing through their veins. The bag containing excrements from their family dog Buddy was placed upon the doorstep and the boy in charge, smirking once again, lowered the lighter towards it. Suddenly he froze. The morning was quiet…too quiet._

"_What do you think you're doing?"_

_He whipped around and came face to face with a girl who looked to be about a year or two younger than him. Her brilliantly red hair was pulled back and fastened with a blue ribbon that matched the checkered dress she wore; her eyes, as green as emeralds, were narrowed. She didn't look too tough, though she tried to. She was definitely someone he could handle. Well, maybe except for the golf club she had slung over her shoulder._

"_Well?" she pressed._

"_I could ask you the same thing," he replied, dusting off his pants. A few feet away his brother was cowering under the girl's deadly stare._

"_This is _my_ house," she hissed. "State your name and business. Now!"_

"_James McCartney but everyone calls me Paul," he extended a hand which she ignored. "And this is my brother Mike."_

"_What are you doing here, then, McCartney?"_

"_We just came to borrow some sugar, sugar." She didn't buy his act._

"_What's that, then?" She pointed at the bag with the club._

"_A present- for you."_

"_Bull shit. Get off of my lawn."_

"_But—"_

"_Get!"_

"_You can't tell us what to do!" Mike, finally recovered from his cowardice, shouted._

"_Oh yeah?" she challenged, grinning wickedly._

"_Yeah!"_

_Without any warning she brought the club back as if she were aiming for a ball and swung, successfully colliding with Mike's shin._

"_Ow!" he shrieked, hopping up and down on one foot. "What the hell!"_

_The girl merely laughed and pointed the club at Paul. "You next?" _

_He vigorously shook his head and backed away._

"_Annie Elle!"_

_She visibly tensed as a rotund woman came scrambling out of the house. The two were mirror images—that is if the mirror showed you when you were aged and heavier._

"_Annie, you apologize to these nice boys now!"_

"_But mum—" the girl, Annie, whined._

"_No buts!" she cut her off in her heavy Irish accent.. "What have I told you about playing with your father's golf clubs? Are you alright Mr. McCartney?"_

"_I think so," Mike responded and gingerly set his injured leg down with a wince._

"_Mum you didn't see what they were doing!" Annie exclaimed incredulously._

"_That does not justify your actions! Come 'ead you lot, let's go explain this to the missus."_

_Both Paul and Mike stuck their tongues out at Annie as her mother dragged her across the street and forced her to apologize in front of Mary McCartney. They were about to enter the house for tea when Annie suddenly wrenched herself from her mother's grip._

"_Wait, boys, I've got somethin' for ya'!"_

_Intrigued the brothers waited on the porch as she darted back over to her house. She returned with a small object tucked under her arm and something else behind her back. Placing the package just at the edge of their yard she turned to them and smiled. She produced her formerly discarded golf club with a flourish and positioned it against the horribly familiar bag. They watched in dismay as she raised the club._

"_Cheers!"_

_She swung with all of her might. The bag exploded on impact and all of Buddy's fecal matter was scattered across the yard. Mike groaned knowing he would have to clean it up and his brother glared at the hysterical girl. Unbeknownst to both Annie and Paul, this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship._

"Paul? Paul!"

Paul jerked awake and groaned. That dream had been so real. For a minute he actually believed he was eight years old again and playing pranks on the neighbors. He could actually feel the heat from little Annie's smoldering glare and smell the faint hint of grass and laundry soap wafting off of her freshly pressed dress. He could even hear Mike's pained cries as she whacked him with a golf club. But no. Here he was lying in a bed at the Asher house staring into the concerned face of Jane.

"I'm up," he mumbled sleepily and rolled back over.

"No you're not." She grabbed his shoulder and turned him so he was facing her again. "Come on, you've got to get ready!"

"For what?"

She kissed him lightly. "For the dinner party, silly."

"Jane, love, it's nine in the morning. Why do I need to get ready now?"

"Well the guests will be arriving in a few hours for an early tea." He glared at her, still waiting for a legitimate answer to his question. "Oh, please just get up! I'm bored!"

He chuckled and reluctantly sat up. "Alright, I promise I'm up now."

"Good!" She skipped towards the door, intending on waiting downstairs until he was fully awake and ready but she stopped. "Oh, I forgot to mention something. I invited Annie and her friend Cristina. Isn't that exciting?" She clapped her hands eagerly.

Paul, on the other hand, wasn't as thrilled by that bit of news. He choked on the sip of water he had just drunk. "You what?"

"I invited Annie and Cristina. You're fine with that, aren't you? I mean after all Annie _was_ your best friend. And I always liked her. I thought it'd be nice."

"Yeah, yeah it's fine. I was just a little taken aback, is all."

Jane eyed him suspiciously. "If you say so. They're coming a bit earlier because mum and dad wanted to see Annie too."

"Alright then, just give me a few minutes to get my bearings." Jane nodded and left the room. When he was certain she was gone Paul rolled back over instead of getting up as he promised.

His eyelids grew heavy as he stared unseeingly out of the window of his room. He tried in vain to think about anything other than that daft dinner party. The Ashers were quite famous for that on the block. It was something they did to impress but why bother when their daughter was an up and coming actress who happened to be dating one of the most famous men in the world? Well, maybe that was a bit conceited of him but it was the truth. Those people weren't working for the honor of their family—Jane was, as well as the company she kept.

There he was dwelling on things that would only lead to bad thoughts. _She_ was going to be there. So was Cristina. She was easier to think about than _her_. He liked Cristina. So far she had proved herself nice enough, especially to Ringo it seemed. A vague wondering of what was happening between them passed through his hazy mind. Over the past few weeks they had grown relatively close but he wasn't sure if it was anything serious. If it was they were both old enough to handle themselves accordingly…

That was the last thing he thought before sleep consumed him.

/.\

Clouds. He was floating on a cloud over a serene river. Glancing down he saw people frolicking through the grassy fields, smiling and waving at him. He grinned sheepishly and waved back. The cloud carried him farther across the cerulean sky and he noticed trees with Fender acoustic guitars and Hofner basses growing off of them…

Voices. That was the first thing that pierced through the thick sleep induced fog that had fallen over him. There were three, maybe four… He couldn't decipher who they belonged to, though.

"…told him that but he obviously didn't listen," one whispered to the others in the room.

Why were there people disturbing him in this peaceful state? That was rude. His whole being was completely at ease. Nothing these intruders could do would affect that.

"…fucking get up, that's what he should do," a harsh voice snapped.

His conscience cringed. Maybe that would bother his tranquility. There were no foul-mouthed people in his imaginary world. The people in the fields looked up at him confusedly, wondering who would dare utter that insufferable word.

"Maybe you should leave him be," a kind, gentle voice suggested. Two others scoffed.

"Yeah, I don't think so," someone who sounded familiar said, voice tinged with irritation, no doubt with a roll of their eyes. "Wake the fucking douche bag up."

"After you, my favorite bint," the rude person from before said.

"With pleasure my equally favorite barmy nancy."

Water. Ice cold water. Dripping everywhere. The waterfall cascaded across his chest and slapped him in the face before rolling down onto the sheets. The field people called to him frantically, trying to reel him back in. But it was too late.

"What the _hell_?"

"Sorry Paulie, it had to be done," Annie said seriously while John and Cristina laughed hysterically and Jane looked sour.

"Guys, those were Egyptian cotton sheets!" Jane exclaimed. "They were expensive!"

"No one gives a fuck, Jane." Annie told her bluntly as she threw herself onto a dry portion of the bed. Cristina smacked the back of her head. "What?" She demanded. Her best friend gave her a meaningful look. In clear understanding she hopped up and turned to Jane. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. Do you think the sheets will be okay? I'll help you clean up!"

Jane gave a weak smile. "I don't know, I hope they'll be fine. You don't have to."

"But I insist!" She grabbed the corner of the linens and gave a forceful tug, causing Paul to roll off of the bed and hit the floor with a painful thump. She smirked triumphantly.

"You're too easy of a target, Paul," John said once his laughter subsided somewhat. Then he grew serious. "But really, get up or we'll do something worse."

"Where are George and Ringo?" Paul asked, completely ignoring them while he rummaged through his closet for something presentable to wear- and preferably dry.

"What, are we not enough?" Annie gestured between her, John, and Cristina.

"I'd prefer if there were other sane people here besides meself," he told her, buttoning up a dress shirt. "No offense Cristina."

"None taken," she replied with a smirk on her face.

"What about me?" Jane demanded.

"No one in their right mind would think that bird was remotely sane," John whispered to Annie who laughed.

"You better be glad my parents weren't home, Annie."

"Ah, the Ashers love me," she responded indifferently. Then she said in a rather believable voice filled with faux remorse, "I'm really sorry Jane."

Jane smiled. "It's okay. Just don't do it again, yeah?"

Annie tried _very_ hard not to roll her eyes. "Yeah. I'm going out back to hang these out to dry, alright?" She left carrying the sodden bundle and the other two she brought with her followed, waggling their fingers at the couple before disappearing down the hall.

"That was nice of Annie, don't you think?" Jane asked after a few minutes of silence.

"What, dousing me with cold water?" Paul said sitting beside her.

"Well maybe not that, but helping to clean up. I thought that was sweet."

Paul frowned. "If you say so. Sorry about the mess."

"It's alright; I'll just leave a towel here or something," she said with a sigh as she patted the wet mattress.

She was pouting. That was a typical Jane thing. When something didn't go as planned or in a manner she would have liked her eyes grew dark and her lower lip stuck out in that irksome pout. Paul rolled his eyes. She could really be quite childish. But then again she was barely of age so it fit, didn't it?

Jane whimpered pitifully as she glanced at the saturated bed once more. Paul lifted her chin with a finger and stared lovingly into her eyes.

"Sadness is not very becoming of you, dear."

She tried to break his gaze but couldn't. Those eyes were hypnotizing. He leaned in slowly but she had had enough. She grabbed the collar of his shirt and mashed their lips together, deepening the kiss. Paul grabbed her waist and pulled her into his lap and she wrapped her arms around his neck. If there wasn't that damned dinner party in a few hours and if the bed wasn't soaking wet perhaps they would have done more than that…

"Oi, you two!"

They both looked up into the smirking face of Annie who was leaning in the doorway. A trace of something else was in her eyes for a fleeting second but it was gone and replaced by that same stony look that had become natural for her.

"Your mum and dad wanted me to get you but I could tell them you're busy."

Jane immediately jumped up. "Don't do that! We'll be right down."

"Take as long as you like." She sauntered down the hall again and they heard her speaking to someone, most likely to John as they heard a snicker.

Paul was going to say something but he suddenly found himself thrown onto the floor. Jane had shoved him off of the bed, stretching a towel over the spot he had occupied, and was running out of the room but not before she called a hasty "Sorry!" over her shoulder. He sighed. Sometimes he wondered why he put up with that girl.

Richard and Margaret Asher were sitting around a table with John and Cristina, laughing at something the ever vivacious Annie said. They all looked up when Paul entered the room.

"Paul dear how lovely of you to join us!" Margaret chirped happily.

"You haven't seen our daughter, have you?" Richard asked, lighting a cigarette.

"I'm right here, daddy!" Jane exclaimed as she reentered the house and pecked each of her parents' cheeks. "Just had to take care of something."

"I told you I'd taken care of it Janie!" Annie said in a slightly offended voice. "Don't you trust me?" She stuck out her lower lip and frowned.

"Of course I do!" Jane amended, reaching over to squeeze her "friend's" hand. "I just wanted to make sure."

"Oh you both are like two peas in a pod!" Margaret said with a chuckle.

Annie shifted her head to the side, covering her face with her hand, and grimaced. Cristina choked back a laugh.

"So, Annie, what have you been up to?" Richard asked, ignoring them.

"Chapter eleven."

"What?"

"Nothing. Um, I've been to school in America."

"How was that?"

"Nice, I liked it. That's where I met Blondie." She playfully bumped into Cristina who smiled at the couple.

"I thought your accent was a little off."

Jane listened to their conversation, a bright smile plastered on her face. She watched as Annie threw her head back and laughed, causing those curls she envied to bounce. Ever since she met the other redhead she had longed to be just like her. Sure, Annie could be rather rude at times but she was an alright person once you got past that tough exterior. Now that she was back, oh they could pick up where there friendship left off! It would be positively swell. She thought back in fond remembrance of the moment they met.

_She leaned against the fence that made the perimeter of her friend's school, the Liverpool Institute High School for Girls, watching her surroundings. It was a vain attempt to look cool and appealing to a certain boy with adorable hazel eyes who was right across the street. When she felt him looking her way she threw back her head and laughed at whatever her best friend Nancy had said. The boy sniggered and continued his walk._

"_Jane, what's wrong with you?" Nancy asked, slightly irritated. "I was in the middle of an important story!"_

_Jane tucked a stray strand of red hair behind her ear and frowned. "I'm fine."_

_Nancy followed her line of sight and smirked. "Oh, is this about that boy over there?"_

"_No!" Then she asked in excitement, "Do you know anything about him?"_

_With a roll of her eyes, Nancy told her, "His name is James McCartney but he goes by Paul."_

"_McCartney? That name sounds familiar."_

"_My sister's best friend's cousin used to date his brother Mike."_

_Jane's eyes widened. "Really?"_

"_Really. Well anyway, he's really into music like Elvis and all of that rubbish. I heard he plays guitar."_

"_That's real gear!"_

"_I think it's stupid," Nancy huffed. "But he's at least four years older than us, love. There's no way you stand a chance. He's practically legal!"_

"_Mere technicalities," Jane responded coolly with a wave of her hand._

_They watched as he approached a girl older than them but one they had seen around the school. Her hair was a mess of wild red curls that was a shade at least two times darker than Jane's. The two shared words but whatever Paul (oh what a dreamy name!) said seemed to anger the girl. She yelled something and he shouted right back before storming away._

"_Do you know who that is?" Jane asked, a plan formulating in her mind._

"_Um, I think her name is Annie. Annie something, I don't know. She's best friends with Paul there."_

_That was all she needed to hear. Jane sprung up from the fence and headed towards Annie, glancing wistfully in the direction Paul ran._

"_Jane! What do you think you're doing?" Nancy called after her._

"_I'll see ya later Nance!"_

_She dashed across the street and hurried up the sidewalk until she reached the bench the other redhead seated herself on._

"_Hi there!" she chirped gleefully._

_The girl looked up at her questioningly and then turned away in annoyance. "What do you want, kid?"_

"_My name's Jane, Jane Asher. What's yours?"_

_She rolled her eyes and took out a cigarette. "What's it to you?"_

"_Well I've seen you around the town and I figured maybe we could be friends!"_

_Lighting the tobacco stick and taking a long drag of it she turned to Jane once more. "I don't know about all of that, now."_

_Jane wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Isn't that unhealthy and dangerous?"_

_The girl blew a large billow of smoke in her face. She began coughing hysterically. "You tell me, love."_

"_I tell you yes."_

"_I tell you I don't care."_

_The two stared at each other long and hard. Jane was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable and slightly afraid by the death glare this mysterious girl was capable of. But she needed to become her friend to get closer to Paul. Suddenly, she chuckled._

"_The name's Annie. No one's ever lasted that long when it comes to my look so you must have some redeeming qualities to you."_

_Jane sighed in relief. "It's really a pleasure to meet you."_

"_The pleasure is all yours."_

"_Do you want to go grab a bite at the diner or something?"_

_Annie scoffed and stood, dusting off her ripped jeans. "Um, no. I've got more important things to do than hang around with someone three years younger than me, like find Paul before he eggs my house or some shit like that."_

_Jane tried to fake nonchalance but Annie saw through her easily. "Oh, Paul? Was he the one that was over here earlier?"_

_Annie narrowed her eyes. "Yes, why would you like to know?"_

"_No reason, really. He seemed…nice."_

"_Sure, if you find a major prick nice."_

"_So, uh, how old is he?"_

_Annie looked at her and then started laughing. Jane's pride was prickled. She frowned as her older peer continued laughing about some joke she wasn't a part of._

"_What, pray tell, is so funny?"_

"_You fancy him, don't you?"_

"_That's not possible because I hardly know him!"_

_A smirk graced Annie's face. "So was this why you wanted to 'befriend' me? You expected me to introduce you to him?"_

"_Well, I—"_

"_Listen, love, he's older than you. There's no way in hell you could be anything other than a friend to him."_

_Jane's defenses kicked in. "And why not? Age is nothing but a number! I could be anything I wanted to be!"_

"_Yeah, anything but Paul's bird. He's currently with some idiotic bimbo anyway."_

_That crushed her. A hope filled her heart when Annie actually talked to her. But now that she learned Paul was taken, what was she supposed to do? Sit back and wait for the day he realized she was in love with him?_

"_Oh." She said simply._

"_Look, kid, you don't know what love is, so don't get all sappy on me now." How did she know what she was thinking?_

"_I never said anything about love."_

"_You're easy to read. You don't even know him and I'm almost certain you're not from here so you've only ever seen him in passing. I may not approve of his current bird but I'm not going to get some little kid's hopes up by telling her she has a chance with my friend. I'm sorry, Jane." _

_She didn't seem sorry at all. But Jane didn't dare say that. She sulked silently and looked the other way._

"_Hey Annie!"_

_They both looked up as two boys pedaled their bikes down the street. Jane's heart soared. That was Paul!_

"_Annie, what're you doing with that kid?"_

_Annie glanced at Jane and smirked, a look that said plain as day 'I told you so'. "It's another one of your admirers pestering me, Paul!"_

"_Who would admire this thing?" the other boy she assumed was Mike shouted._

"_My thoughts exactly!"_

"_Hey Annie," Paul called, ignoring his brother. "Your mum let us borrow this!" He screeched to a stop a few feet away from them. "Hello there," he winked at Jane. She could have died right then and there._

"_What're you gabbing on about, McCartney?" Annie demanded._

"_Oh sorry. Your mum let us take this off of her hands for a while." He grinned viciously as he took a gleaming acoustic guitar off of his back._

_Annie gasped and her hands flew to her mouth. "Stella! What are you doing with her?"_

"_Tell me you're sorry or fear my wrath!"_

"_I'm not telling you I'm fucking sorry, you bastard! Give me back me guitar!"_

"_Not gonna happen." He strapped the instrument on his back once more and took off down the street, followed closely by his brother._

"_Damn you, Paul! I thought you were on _my_ side, Mike?"_

"_Only if you kiss me, Annabelle," Mike leered and tossed a wink over his shoulder._

"_Fuck," Annie hissed. "I've got to go, kid." She began running after them at an alarming speed._

"_Will I see you again?" Jane yelled after her._

"_Don't know, don't care!"_

_And with that she was gone. That was definitely one of the most unforgettable encounters Jane had ever had._

Jane was brought out of her memory by the present day Annie. "Mrs. Asher, may I use your phone please?"

"Call me Margaret, darling! Of course you may."

"Isn't she a sweetheart?" John whispered to Cristina with a roll of his eyes.

The group chatted idly about nothing in particular until Annie returned, frowning.

"Mr. and Mrs. Asher I'm really sorry but I must be going," she said.

"Oh, but why?" Margaret asked. "We haven't had pudding yet!"

"I know, and I do apologize. My mother wants me over. She says it's something important."

"Is everything alright?" Richard asked, concerned.

"I believe so. Guess I'll have to go over and see, won't I?"

"I suppose we should be going as well, then," Cristina said.

"You don't have to go!" Jane exclaimed. "We want you to stay."

"That's sweet of you, Jane, but Annie was my ride."

"Mine too," John added, standing and helping Cristina out of her chair.

"It was truly nice meeting you all," Cristina said with a smile. "Good evening."

"Must you really go?" Paul inquired, thought not really upset she was leaving. He could do with some time away from her.

"Yeah," Annie answered, not looking at him. "I'll see you all later; unless you want to come, Paul? Jane?"

"Can I go mum and dad?" Jane asked eagerly. Annie wanted to laugh at how childish this scene was.

"Maybe next time sweetie," Richard answered as he reached for another cigarette. "We need you to stick around and help us with our other guests."

Jane sulked and turned away from her parents. "Why don't you go then, Paul?"

"What?" His eyes widened as he stared at her.

"I think you should go! You always told me Annie was like a sister to you so you should spend some time with her and catch up, you know?"

Was she seriously trying to push him out of the house and force his company on Annie? "Um no, I should probably stick around and help with you all and—"

"Go on, Paulie," Margaret patted his arm. "We'll be able to handle this mess on our own."

He cringed. This was not good, not good at all. It appeared _she_ had won his girlfriend over to her side, as well as her parents. As of now it seemed everyone was a fan of Annie Elle. The world was just against him.

Annie smiled vaguely and Cristina gave a funny little cough which sounded oddly like a laugh. "Yeah you know, I don't think mum would mind. She's wanted to see you anyway."

"So then it's settled!" John interjected impatiently before Paul could try to squirm his way out of this situation. "Paul's coming with us while the lovely Jane must stay behind to assist in the hosting of this fab party. May we go now? I really must be getting back home to Cynthia."

Jane giggled. "Yes you may go, Lennon. It was really great seeing you all!" She stood and hugged them all before coming to Annie. "What do you say to tea in a few days with Paul and me?"

"I'm sure she's got things to do," Paul began.

"I'd love to," Annie interrupted. "Thank you all so much for having us. See you soon!" She waved merrily as the others followed her, two out of the three more willing to do so.

"That was absolutely brilliant," Cristina whispered. "Did you see the look on his face?"

Annie smirked. "Oh yes, he's definitely pissed. Score one for Annie?"

"Score one for you, babe."

/.\

Paul sighed as the Holloway residence came into view. He had spent countless summer days hiding from his parents there and playing guitar with Annie. Many a great memory had been made there but it also brought up some others he wanted to forget. He glanced at his own home across the street and the frown deepened somewhat. He should really visit his dad.

"You should go over later," Annie said leaning on the car beside him. She noticed him staring at his old home and knew immediately what he was thinking. She didn't have a minor in psychology for nothing.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

Cristina was staring open-mouthed at the house before them. "You know, this wasn't what I expected."

"What _did_ you expect?"

"An old decrepit castle with bats and other creepy things hanging around."

Annie snorted. "Oh, ha ha. Come now, you lot. Time is money."

Together, she, Paul, and Cristina walked up the long path that led to her childhood home. Her heart skipped a beat as every memory she had of this place flooded her system. Many were good and simply wonderful. But there were just as many bad ones she didn't want to think about. She pushed that aside as she fumbled with the key under the welcome mat.

"Mum?" she called into the darkened foyer.

"Annie, darling, is that you?"

Paul and Cristina stood awkwardly in the doorway as Annie hugged an older woman who looked exactly like her, flaming red hair and all.

"Aye, don't be shy you two," Irene Holloway rounded on them. "You're just as much a part of the family as this little bugger is." She jokingly pinched her daughter's arm. "Cristina, love, haven't I told you, you need to eat more?" She pulled the blond in for a tight embrace. "Lucky for you I've made a cobbler."

Cristina smiled fondly at the woman. "Mrs. Holloway, I eat a lot but I have no idea where it goes! Annie can tell you that."

"It's true," Annie reentered the room, a plate of the steaming pudding already in her hand. "You are looking a bit more well-fed, though." She went back into the kitchen with Cristina behind her.

Irene turned to Paul and frowned. He was afraid that she was going to yell at him but suddenly she smiled and hugged him so tight he was sure his ribs cracked.

"How've you been, lad?" Her smile grew larger as she took him in. He couldn't help but grin back.

"I've been doing pretty well, thanks. How're you Mrs. Holloway? It's been a while."

"Yes, too long. I'm fine, thank you. And I've told you countless times, call me Irene!" She grabbed his elbow and pulled him into the kitchen where the girls were both stuffing their faces and laughing. "Sit. You're looking a little peaky as well, now. Don't those fancy music people feed your lot properly?"

"I've been to visit Uncle George several times and he's never once fed me, mum," Annie told her in between bites of the pie.

"He did too!' Cristina exclaimed. "That time we went out to dinner for George!"

"That doesn't count because the boys unknowingly paid for that one."

"Wait, what?" Paul asked, a spoon topped with Mrs. Holloway's—_Irene's_—hot cobbler hanging just outside of his mouth.

"Nothing," Annie and Cristina answered at the same time, eyes wide in mock innocence before they burst out laughing.

"Hush up you two before I make you clean this entire kitchen," Irene snapped.

"Yes ma'am." They immediately continued their meal.

"Annie, now, there's someone I want you to meet," Irene said in a gentler tone.

"Who's that?"

"Why don't you all come into the sitting room, then?"

They all nodded and migrated into the next room. Annie sighed contentedly. Here she spent numerous days with Paul and Mike when they were younger. They would all come together after school and work on homework while feasting on whatever wonderful delicacy her mother created that day. Or maybe they would build little forts out of spare sheets and pretend to be royalty guarding their new castle. She locked eyes with Paul for a moment and they both smiled, obviously thinking along the same lines.

"Annie, don't be mad at me."

"Oh God, what'd you do?" she groaned. Her mother was going to respond but they both looked towards the opening front door. A tiny figure emerged looking rather weary.

"Darling?" Irene inquired worriedly, beginning to stand.

Annie stood as well in shock and confusion. "Mum, what the hell is going on?"

The little girl lightly padded into the room, eyes wide, and stood before Annie. They stared imploringly at one another for what seemed like hours. Slowly, they each raised an arm until their fingers touched. Annie's breathing quickened as she unconsciously laced her fingers with the girls.

"Bloody hell," she murmured.

"Maggie?" Paul asked incredulously as the small girl looked to him.

"Mr. Paul!" She threw herself into his arms and buried her face into the crook of his neck. Paul looked up from the mass of red hair in his face into the questioning eyes of everyone else.

"Maggie, don't you see who this is?" Irene asked softly as she stood behind her daughter.

Maggie timidly peered through the gap under Paul's arm and her eyes widened as they landed on the other redhead who glared at her slightly. "Annie?" she whispered.

"Mum, do you care to explain please? And you as well Paul."

Paul cleared his throat and pried the girl's arms from around his neck. "Well you see, the night you sent those crazy girls after me (which I haven't forgiven you for, by the way) I may have, er, gotten on the wrong side of an angry transgender prostitute and little Maggie here saved me from certain doom."

A heavy silence filled the air. All eyes were on Paul and he was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Suddenly Cristina exploded in laughter. She clutched her sides as tears poured down her cheeks.

"Tranny…prostitute…little girl…saved you! Ha ha ha!" she said in between giggles. Irene covered her mouth to hide a growing smile and Annie smirked.

"I always knew you were a damsel in distress, love. It's a good thing Maggie was there, wasn't it?"

The little girl beamed.

"Now can we explain why she's here?"

Irene hesitated. "She's…"

"I'm your sister," Maggie supplied, grinning at Annie again. "When you left for school mummy had me and I grew up to be here now! I always wanted to meet you but I couldn't, not until you came back home. She showed me lots of pictures and told me stories about you and now that I see you its kind of scary how much we look alike, yeah? I'm just so happy to finally meet you!" She threw her arms around a shocked Annie. Paul had absolutely no idea what she just said for she was talking too fast.

"But if you're her sister," Paul began, brow furrowed. That explained why she looked so familiar to him. "Why was she at this Henry bloke's place alone at an odd hour of the night?"

Maggie scowled at him. Irene huffed. "You didn't tell me he left you alone!"

"It was only for a little while! He came back right after Mr. Paul left, I swear!"

"Who's Henry?" Cristina asked what the other two were thinking.

"He watches me sometimes when mummy and daddy can't," Maggie explained.

"And why haven't I seen her all of the times I've been here before?" Annie demanded.

"She was with your aunt Darcy in Ireland," Irene told her.

At that moment the front door banged open. An aged man with thinning gray hair shuffled in. He glared at the group assembled on the sofas, his eyes hard behind his thick spectacles. Annie winced as he sneered at her.

"Hi daddy."

"Daddy!" Maggie slid off of Annie's lap and wrapped her arms around Wilbert Holloway's legs. "I missed you so much!"

"I missed you too, pumpkin." His facial features relaxed and he picked the girl up. "How've you lot been?"

A mumbled chorus of "fine" came from the three friends. Wilbert chuckled but it turned into a wheezy cough. Irene hurried into the kitchen to fix him a cup of tea.

"You two aren't married yet?" He asked Annie and Paul who were now sitting quite close to one another.

Annie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Daddy, I told you I would never marry one of the McCartney boys."

"McCartney?" Maggie asked slowly. "As in Paul McCartney? Oh my goodness! You're him! He's you! Why didn't you say anything? Mummy wasn't lying!" She suddenly did a circuit around the sofa and jumped into Paul's lap again.

"Maggie, don't hurt the lad." Annie tried to take her newly found sister away but she clung tightly to Paul's shirt.

"I thought you said there was another one of you?" Wilbert asked gruffly as he sipped the tea his wife handed him.

"Oh, there was. It was John. He had to do something with the wife but personally I think its better he didn't come. John Lennon knowing the whereabouts of your home can never be good."

"John Lennon?" Maggie was practically buzzing with excitement. "Annie, do you and Cristina know _all_ of them?"

"If we didn't, I'm sure Paul would."

"Can you guys introduce me to them?"

"I will not have that!" Wilbert nearly shouted. "I don't like the look of that Lennon fella and I don't want him anywhere near my little pearl."

"Mr. Holloway, with all due respect, John has a son of his own," Cristina said, suddenly cowering under the force of his glare. "I don't think he'd do anything wrong in front of Maggie."

"That's just the thing—you said 'in front of her'. What's the character like behind closed doors?"

Paul was going to make a retort but Annie cut him off. "Why the hell are we discussing John effing Lennon?"

"Don't you take that tone in my house, young lady."

"Ah, well, I've learned from the best." She grinned cruelly at her father. "And just how long will Maggie remain your 'little pearl'? If I remember correctly it wasn't long before you turned with me. If you do anything to her, I swear I'll—"

"Annie!" Irene shouted.

"I think you should get going," Wilbert said coldly.

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to stay too long with the fucking ice hearted bastard."

"Watch your mouth!"

"You won't say anything you're not supposed to, right Mags?"

Maggie nodded and frowned. "Must you really leave so soon?"

"I'll be back to visit you later, I promise. I'll even bring Crissy and Paul if you want."

She smiled and leaned in to whisper, "And John too?"

"Anything for you, love." She kissed the top of her sister's head and made to leave. "Are you two coming or what?"

Cristina hastily stood and scrambled after her. Paul hesitated. "It was nice seeing you all again."

The trio exited the home. Paul gazed over at his father's house and sighed.

"Go," Annie told him. "I'll come back to get you if you need me to."

"Thanks."

Paul stood on the porch of his old home and raised an arm to knock on the door. Before he could bring his knuckles to wrap against the worn wood he hesitated and glanced at the Holloway home again. Annie was frowning slightly but Cristina was seated in the car waving encouragingly at him. That was all he needed. With renewed confidence he knocked on the door and gladly anticipated seeing his father again.


	12. The Truth

**AN: I was totally going to update on Saturday but my weekend was pretty jam packed and interfered with my fanfictioning (there's my made up word again). It consisted of some hardcore partying (ahaha you don't want to know), haunted houses with sexy zombies, trick or treating dressed as Kiss (face paint and all), webcam party with my best friend and our friend in England who's voice is pretty much sex (I'm going to marry him, I swear). So basically it was the greatest weekend of my life, not that you'd care, but I expect this weekend to be equally awesome because I'm going to see Never Shout Never and the Maine in concert. But I digress. Guess what guys? I've hit the big 5-0 in reviews. Fuck yeah! I owe it all to the amazingly awesometastic Eliza March who, as promised, gets a cookie (::) Enjoy :) I also gift you with an epic high five! I'm kind of iffy about this chapter. I rather like the beginning and the sentimental bit at the end but I'm not sure of all the crap in between. I'll leave that up to you guys to decide. Not sure when I'll update again but I thought I'd get this up before life gets in the way again :) Thanks again guys, you all rock! Peace out homiez ;D**_

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_

_At this point in time it was obvious she was going to be in a whole heap of trouble. She had been out all night with her friends and didn't even bother telling her parents where she was. Irene wouldn't be in too much of a tizzy over it but _he_ would be. She couldn't think of his name without wanting to gag._

"_There's one more for you, love."_

_Annie drew her eyes from the rising sun overhead to her best friend Paul. The pair was currently seated in the grass of an abandoned cemetery watching the sun make its ascent into the world as they drank themselves silly. It was a regular occurrence on the weekends, something they did for enjoyment and an escape from everyday life. It was childish, yes, but they loved every minute of it._

"_Thanks." She took the offered beer and cracked it open._

_Paul watched her intently as she silently sipped the alcohol and gazed out over the crumbling headstones. Their attention snapped over to George Harrison's sleeping form as he let out a drunken snore. Annie snickered. The poor lad couldn't hold his liquor if his life depended on it._

"_Where's Mike?" she asked after a few minutes of silence._

"_I don't know, I think he fell asleep over there." Paul gestured vaguely to a spot in front of them. "He likes you, you know."_

_Annie grimaced. "I've noticed, yeah. I'm older than him."_

"_Not by much. A few months, give or take. I'm older than you."_

"_So?"_

"_I dunno. I'm not saying you should date him or anything. That'd just be weird."_

"_You're telling me."_

"_But don't you ever think it's weird that I hang out with you? And you with me?"_

_She leaned back on her elbows and thought for a moment. "Not really. Age is nothing but a number, you know? You're just Paul to me. I never think much of our age difference, which isn't much mind you. You're birthday is in June and mine is a few months away in January."_

"_You're right."_

_She watched him think over something. He was rather adorable when he was concentrating. "Does it bother you that I'm younger?"_

"_Not really."_

"_George is younger too. I'm actually older than him. Speaking of George, why do you bring him round?"_

_Paul chuckled. "He can be okay when he wants._

"_If you say so. He hates me and personally, I'm not that fond of him either."_

"_Ah give it a rest. There's nothing wrong with him."_

"_He's too skinny, for one thing."_

"_Are you talkin' 'bout me?" George mumbled sleepily._

_Annie raised her brows at Paul. "Would you be mad if I put him back to sleep with a brick to 'is 'ead?"_

_Paul merely rolled his eyes and stood unsteadily. "Go back to sleep Georgie."_

"_Mkay mum," George muttered before rolling over. He was out within seconds._

"_Where're you going?" Annie called as Paul began walking away._

"_For some air," he answered back._

"_What the hell are you talking about, there's air everywhere!"_

_He didn't say anything but continued his movement. Annie sighed and pulled herself up, following closely behind._

"_Why didn't you stay?" he asked once she caught up._

"_Honestly? Being alone in a graveyard no matter what time of day creeps me out." She shivered for effect. "If something came to get me those sleeping fools would be no form of protection!"_

_Paul smiled and threw an arm around her shoulder. "You expect me to save you from the undead, then?"_

"_I'd like it, yes."_

"_Maybe if I sing them a song it'll scare them away."_

"_Oh yeah, because you're singing is absolutely dreadful," she said sarcastically with a roll of her eyes._

"_Dreadful? Since when have you said that? You should stop seeing that posh uncle of yours."_

"_He gives me money so no, I will not stop visiting him. 'Sides, it's always good to have a large vocabulary!"_

_Paul laughed and they swayed a bit from the action. "Will you split some of that money with me?"_

_She was going to respond when she heard a twig snap. "What was that?"_

"_Annie Elle, are you scared?" Paul asked incredulously._

"_Annie Eleanor Holloway never gets scared!" As soon as the words were from her mouth there was a rustling in a bush nearby. She cringed into his side and wrapped her arms around him. "Maybe except for now."_

"_Come on, it's nothing! Look!" He gently released himself from her grip and skipped over to the bush to search for the culprit of the mysterious noises. "Nope, there's nothing here. 'sall clear!"_

_The sound of a bird hastily leaving a tree came next. "Paul!" she whined._

_He smirked and grabbed her hand, drawing her nearer. "Relax, will ya? I promise you I'll always keep you safe." He kissed the top of her head and began to sing, "Well that'll be the day, when you say goodbye. Well that'll be the day, when you make me cry."_

_Annie smiled. Of course he knew singing her favorite song would cheer her up. Sometimes she felt he knew her better than she knew herself. But it was nice to have someone to be there for you, especially in times of a possible attack from an unseen force._

"_That'll be the day, when I die!"_

_He finished the song with a flourish and exaggerated jazz hands. Annie couldn't help but laugh. Paul pulled her into a tight hug and she laughed harder._

"_What's so funny?"_

"_You're a brill dancer!" she giggled._

"_Yeah, I know I've got the best moves of anyone in this city."_

"_Maybe compared to that spazzy squirrel over there."_

_He tsk'd and tapped her nose with a finger. "Oi, you."_

_She mock scowled and then grinned brilliantly. Paul wasn't sure what got into him but he couldn't help himself. He leaned in and kissed her. He felt her tense up in shock but she immediately relaxed and kissed back. _

_In a few hours' time once he slept off all of the alcohol he had drunk, Paul would question his actions. Did he _really_ want to kiss her? Was it just a drunken spur of the moment thing? But in a few years' time he would realize that yes; he had wanted to kiss her. He just wasn't sure why it had taken so long and why the use of beer was necessary. At least he had taken the chance._

_And Annie was in pure bliss. Kissing Paul was definitely at the top of her list of things to do before turning twenty._

_Being in a creepy cemetery with risk of an eternal grounding had totally been worth it._

"Annie? Annie!"

Annie woke with a jolt as something, or rather some_one_, jumped on her. Her eyes snapped open and she took in the giggling mass that was Maggie seated in her lap. With a roll of her eyes she turned away and tried to remember where she was. Currently they were in her parents' sitting room and she realized she was wrapped in George's arms. The two of them had fallen asleep while they were supposed to be watching her sister. Her cheeks flushed. Had she seriously been dreaming about her younger self kissing Paul when she was with her current boyfriend?

Maggie began poking her cheek. "You're a horrible babysitter, you know that?"

"So this is your punishment, then?" Annie groaned and pushed the girl off of her lap.

"Hey!"

"Was there something you wanted from me?" she asked as she stretched, lavishing in the feeling.

"Yes, daddy said he would be home soon."

She stiffened. Though she was grown and didn't necessarily have to listen to her parents as much, that simple statement made her blood run cold. George couldn't be here when Wilbert returned.

"We should wake him," Maggie pointed to George as if reading Annie's thoughts.

"We should. I'll let you do that then."

She grinned and hoisted herself off of the floor. Slowly she inched closer to George and when she was right beside him, she screamed in his ear, "WAKE UP GEORGIE!"

He freaked out and slid from his position on the couch. The sisters laughed hysterically while he scowled at them. "That wasn't very nice."

"But it was funny," the girls said simultaneously. They glanced at each other and laughed again.

"Will someone explain please?"

Annie instantly sobered and frowned. "Me dad's coming home."

"So?"

"_So_ I don't want to hear his shit so I would greatly appreciate it if you could…I dunno, maybe go over the McCartneys' for a bit?"

George grimaced. "Do I have to?"

"Or go back to your own place! Anywhere but here, please George."

The front door opened and they all froze, though Maggie did it simply because she thought it funny they looked like statues. After a few tense minutes, the newcomer finally entered the room and they let out a sigh of relief.

"Mummy!"

Maggie launched herself at her mother and clung to her skirt as Irene made her way to the kitchen.

"'Ello love. Annie, you know what he'll say."

Annie sighed. "Hello to you too, mum."

"Just have 'im out before your father gets here, please."

"But I'm twenty-one for fucks' sake! Why does it matter what company I've got over, huh?"

With hand on hip her mother gave her a hard stare. "Annie, please."

"You heard her George."

George nodded numbly and stood. "I'll, uh, see you later?"

She gave an irritated sniff and folded her arms. "Yeah, later. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Bye Maggie." He ruffled the young girl's hair and slid out of the front door.

"This is ridiculous and you know it," Annie called after Irene who began making herself a cup of tea. They had left Maggie in the living room to her coloring books.

"Honestly child, I don't want to hear your father's fucking nonsense," the woman sighed and massaged her temples. "I've heard enough of it for the past thirty years, mind."

"Well, whose fault is that?"

Irene scowled. "Don't start with me."

Annie plopped into a chair and glared at her mother's bustling form. "You are unbelievable."

"I learned from the best," she replied in a mocking tone and sat opposite her daughter.

Annie swirled the contents of her own drink and thought for a moment. There was something on her mind but she wasn't sure if she should broach the subject.

"Mum?" she began after a prolonged silence.

"Hmm?"

"She's Henry's, isn't she?"

The glass that she held suddenly slipped and crashed against the table. "Excuse me?"

"Maggie I mean. She's not dad's kid."

"Why would you say something like that?"

"She doesn't act like a Holloway. She's too…" She frowned as she tried to find the right word to describe her sister. "She's too pure. And judging by your reaction I assume I'm right?"

Mopping up the mess with a towel Irene heaved a great sigh. "You're right. You're always right. I hate you for that sometimes, you know? You always seem to know things you shouldn't."

Annie picked up one of the glass shards and ran a finger along the jagged edge. It was much like her—rough around the edges but quite smooth on the inside; it was a puzzle piece looking for its better half. "The one thing I don't know for sure is how Maggie came to be, though. Mind explaining?"

She sighed again and disposed of the remaining glass before sitting again. "Where to begin?"

"How about where Henry comes in?"

"Okay." She hesitated before beginning. "Well, for years I felt a…an uncomfortable distance from your father. Things between us became rather strained. When we first met he was this sweet boy who promised me the world. Was I foolish to believe him? Perhaps, but it was nice to know there was someone who cared enough about an Irish immigrant like me. We were young and stupidly in love. Now, though, I realize that listening to him was a mistake.

"He began to change right before me very eyes. Wilbert was no longer the sweet lad I was head over heels for. He was crude and mean and hurtful. The things he used to say to me…" Her voice caught and she smiled faintly. "I don't know when or why it started. It seems it could be traced to when I got pregnant. I'm not saying it's your fault, love," she added when Annie looked outraged. "I'm just saying I feel like everything he said was a lie and he realized he stopped loving me by the time we created you.

"I tried to keep things happy between us so you wouldn't be any wiser. But you're too smart for your own good so you knew there was a problem. Maybe that's why you are the way you are, you know? Living in a fake household can't be good for a child. I did it to protect you, though."

"It didn't work too well, did it?"

"No…not at all. Turning a blind eye to your father and his doings only ruined you in the end. I'm sorry Annie."

"It's too late for that, now."

Irene sniffed. "I guess you're right. Well anyways, you wanted to know about Henry. I desperately wanted the love your father and I used to have. Or at least the love I _thought_ we had. You understand, don't you? I mean the way you look at—"

"Don't. Even. Say it."

She chuckled. "Still in denial, eh? Okay then. I was walking home from the market one day and it was raining terribly. I had left my umbrella at home because you needed it to go out with the McCartneys. I was drenched and shivering. All of a sudden this car pulls up beside me and this man wants me to get in! I thought he was insane. Why would I get in a car with a stranger? But it was either that or pneumonia so I did."

"Did what, catch cold?"

"No! I thought you were intelligent? I got in the car with him. He told me his name was Henry Finnigan. He was obviously an Irishman. Goodness now that I think about it, he looks so much like her apart from the hair. That's mine. He tried to chat me up but I just wasn't having it.

"'What's a pretty girl like you doing out here?' he had asked.

"'What's it to you?' I said.

"He chuckled. 'I'm saving you from sickness, the least you could do is be nice!'

"I refused to look at him, at the inviting twinkle in his eyes, the gentle curve of his smile… 'Take me home please or I'll just walk.'

"He laughed again but didn't say anything after that. When he pulled up in front of the house he asked if he could see me again. I don't know what got into me but I told him yes, I'd be willing to meet up with him sometime. That's how it started.

"We began to see each other behind your father's back. I felt guilty about it but at the same time I didn't care because Henry Finnigan was showing me the love and affection I craved. He was just like your father before he changed. That's what I liked about him so much."

After a moment's silence Annie asked, "Did you love him?"

Irene choked back a sob. "Yes," she answered in a strained voice. "But he was no better than Wilbert. I got pregnant with Maggie before you left and had her a few months after. I was glad no one noticed, it would've been tough to explain. Will, he noticed of course. That's when I convinced him she was his. When I had her Henry changed, showed his true colors. He was a malicious man who didn't give a damn about me or our daughter." She chuckled darkly. "I sure know how to pick 'em, don't I? That's why I was glad Wilbert took her in as his own, even though Henry still insisted on seeing her which is how she came to meet Paul I guess."

"But dad doesn't suspect a thing?" Annie asked incredulously.

"I don't know. I think he wonders about it but he's never questioned."

Annie suddenly became very upset. Her hands shook and she glared at her mother. "You realize how unfair this is, don't you?"

Irene stared right back, a question in her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"This whole fucking situation! How can he do that?"

"Annie, I don't understand."

"Seriously? Mum, your husband has hated me for _years_. It's not fair that he takes in Maggie and treats her like the little princess we all know she is. What the hell did I do to deserve any of the treatment he gave me? He hurt me for years mum!" A rare sight occurred in that moment. Tears began pooling in her emerald eyes. "Why does he despise me but love her? Christ, she's not even his fucking kid! What the fuck did I do?" The tears ran down her porcelain cheeks as she buried her face in her hands. "Why doesn't he want me?" she asked miserably.

Irene instantly went into panic mode. In all of her years raising this girl she had never once cried, except for the times she was an infant or used it as a ploy to get something she wanted. Now here she was in a time of weakness, spilling her heart about the way her father's rejection affected her.

"Annie, love, please don't cry!"

"Mum?" Maggie entered the room and turned sad eyes on her sister. "Is she alright?"

Annie sniffled and laid her head on her folded arms. "I'll be fine."

"Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"Daddy's not really my daddy."

Irene tensed and beckoned the girl over. "Why were you listening in on us?"

"I'm sorry, I—"

"It's a subjective term," Annie cut in. "The word father, I mean. In my opinion it has a completely different meaning than the word 'dad'. Henry may be your father because he made you but he hasn't earned the right to be called dad. Wilbert has."

Maggie nodded, taking in everything that was said. "I suppose your right. It'll still bother me, though."

"Sorry you had to find out this way, kid."

"It's alright. Annie?"

"Maggie?"

"Do you feel that way about daddy?"

She grimaced. "He hasn't earned that right with me."

"So then who has?"

She thought for a second and glanced out the window where her eyes landed on a man working in his front yard. She smiled briefly before answering. "Mr. McCartney."

The front door opened and slammed shut forcefully. They waited with bated breath as Wilbert shuffled into the kitchen. He turned harsh eyes to his wife and eldest daughter but his gaze became tender as he picked up Maggie.

"What's going on here?" he asked curtly.

"We were just talking," Irene answered, not meeting his gaze.

He snorted and then looked at Annie. "Have you been crying? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Daddy," Maggie whined.

"What is it my little pearl?"

"Can't you be nicer to Annie?"

"That's impossible," Annie muttered standing up. "I'll see you all later."

She was halfway to her car when she heard the door of the house open once more.

"Wait!"

Turning, she saw little Maggie running over to her slightly breathless.

"What is it?"

Maggie threw her arms around her. "He may not seem to like you very much but I just wanted to let you know that no matter what I'm here for you, okay?"

This kid sure knew how to tug on someone's heartstrings. With a smile Annie bent down and hugged her back. "I know that. Thanks."

"I love you Annie Elle."

"I love you too, Maggie Mae."


	13. The Confrontation

**AN: Well, hello there! Long time no see. For those of you still with me, I do apologize for my prolonged absence. I haven't really found the time to update, what with school, friends, concerts, handing out free hugs, my newfound love of Call of Duty, hanging out more in the Harry Potter archives, etc etc. I could give you a million excuses but it doesn't really matter. There's also the fact that I feel as if this story isn't quite living up to my expectations, at least the writing... Well anyway, I'm here now! This isn't a very long chapter but quite a bit happens so I feel that should make up for it. Please read and review! :)**

**PS I wrote a one shot about one of the next generation kids from Harry Potter and though it's not really a happy one, I would greatly appreciate it if you lovelies would read and review! (Yes, I did just advertise one of my stories in this story. I'm cool.) :D**

**PPS Has anyone seen the Ed Sullivan episodes the Beatles were on? I just got the dvd the other day and it is AMAZING.**

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Cristina wrapped her coat tightly around her torso and pulled the collar up in a futile attempt to keep warm. The wind was rather violent today, whipping her hair around in a hectic halo while lashing out at any exposed skin. Though it was already the spring season, the temperature was still highly unreasonable

She had to admit she really loved being in England with Annie and her new friends. As of late, however, she began feeling a little off. Sometimes it was like she was being restricted and she desperately needed an escape. And that's how she found herself freezing and lost in downtown London.

"Fuck my life," she whined as the third person she tried to ask for directions shot her a rude gesture and stalked off. She had an appointment to keep and at this rate, she would never be able to.

"What're you doing out here?"

She spun around and sighed in relief as she realized who it was speaking to her. Then her guard immediately went up. "Oh, hey Ringo."

He smiled, the light in his bright blue eyes twinkling merrily. "Hello Cristina. So really, what brings you to this part of town?"

"I wanted to do some sightseeing but I got myself lost," she huffed and frowned. "Don't you dare laugh at me!" She warned when she noticed his grin grow.

"I wasn't going to do anything of the sort," he chuckled quietly, contradicting his words.

"Liar." She mustered her greatest "Annie stare" but it obviously didn't faze him.

"Where were you heading?" he asked, ignoring her look. "Maybe I can help you get there."

"Um, I was looking for a place to eat actually."

"There's something just up there."

She nodded and began walking after him. When they were right beside each other he snaked an arm around her waist. He didn't seem to notice the way she squirmed in his grip. Ringo really liked this girl, more so than the other birds he tended to socialize with. She was different—she was bright and bubbly, but not quite to the annoying extent the fan girls highly infected with "Beatlemania" were. And she was pretty easy on the eyes, too. That one night they spent together was pretty amazing. All of the lads expected him to just leave her after that but he couldn't find the willpower to. They began dating casually and Ringo was practically the happiest man alive.

Cristina, though she was initially as ecstatic about the relationship, had been acting quite strange lately. Whenever he suggested they go out, she would come up with some excuse that prohibited her from going. First, she was spending time with the Holloways. Then, she had offered to help babysit Maggie. The last one was the greatest—she was _washing her hair_.

He mentally rolled his eyes at that. How dense did she think he was? His intelligence may be questionable at times but he was smarter than _that_. Something was definitely up with her and he was going to find out.

"Thanks for showing me the way, Rich," Cristina smiled up at him.

"No problem."

"You should probably get going before someone recognizes you."

"Alright." He leaned in to kiss her but when he was about an inch away she turned her head ever so slightly and his lips grazed her cheek.

She coughed and smiled again. "Uh, I'll see you later. Thanks again!"

With that she was gone. Ringo watched her go, feeling slightly put out.

* * *

Annie felt dirty. Her head throbbed painfully as she lifted herself out of bed. This gave her a horrible sense of déjà vu of the night she unintentionally spent with John. But this time she had gotten her partner so drunk he didn't even realize she hadn't given in to him. George wasn't used to girls turning him down. He had tried to seduce her countless of times but she always said no, which only made his quest much more aggressive. She knew he might be mad when he realized what happened last night (if he _ever_ remember, that is) but she just couldn't do it.

The person outside of her apartment gave another round of angry knocks on the door, the initial reason for her waking from a sound sleep.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," she mumbled in irritation as she shuffled towards the sitting room, throwing one last remorseful look at George's sleeping form.

"Annie, I'm so sorry. I didn't know who to come to!"

She barely opened the door when it was thrown wide open in a panic. Wrapping her dressing gown tighter around her she stared in confusion at the person pacing before her.

"Cynthia," she said in a firm voice.

The other woman looked up and Annie noticed a horrendous mark across her face. "Yes?"

"Oh goodness, Cyn, what happened?"

Her friend sighed and crumpled into a miserable heap on the sofa. "I don't know."

Annie sat beside her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Tell me."

Cynthia sighed and buried her face in her hands. "I was out at the market with Julian and I ran into an old friend from school. We were talking while Jules was playing with something he probably shouldn't have. I didn't know John was there but he saw the whole thing and he assumed I was flirting with Nathan, the friend. When I got home he was waiting for me and just…snapped. I didn't do anything wrong," she finished in a quiet voice.

By this time Annie was shaking with fury. She tentatively traced the mark of John's hand on Cynthia's face. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Their heads snapped up as George traipsed into the room yawning. "Cyn?" he asked in a thick voice.

"Oh, was I interrupting?" Cynthia made to stand but Annie pulled her back down, standing herself.

"You're fine," she assured her. "Where's Julian?"

"With my parents. Why?"

She never got her answer as Annie left the apartment in a fury.

"What's eating her?" George asked stupidly.

Annie was furious, absolutely _pissed_. Who did John Lennon think he was? How did he get off slapping people, women, his _wife_? There was something definitely wrong with that man and as of now, he was dead. If he thought he could get away with hurting Cynthia he had another thing coming.

She must have been a sight storming down the sidewalk in nothing but her sleep clothes but she honestly did not care. She walked with a purpose through the city until she found the right house, practically running up the walkway when she did. In a swift motion she pulled one of the pins from her hair and jammed it in the door lock, forcing her way into the home.

"Lennon!" she shrieked.

John stumbled down the stairs and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Christ, have you any fucking clue what time it is you crazy bitch?" Then he did a double take. "How the hell did you get in my house?"

Suddenly he found himself pressed against a wall, Annie's hand clenching a fistful of his shirt.

"You've got a fucking problem, Lennon," she snarled.

"I've a lot of those. Mind being specific?"

"What makes you think its right hitting Cynthia, eh?"

His eyes narrowed. "That's none of your business."

"It is too my business. She's my friend and unlike you, I actually give two fucks about her you prick!"

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

Her hand moved from his shirt to around his neck and she shoved a finger in his chest. "You've had one too many chances with her and I personally think she should leave your sorry ass."

He roughly grabbed her arm and made to shove her away but she clung even tighter. "What goes on between me and my wife does not concern you, Holloway."

"Listen here," she whispered dangerously as she tried to reciprocate some of the pain he was producing. "I don't give a damn if you do anything to me but Cynthia? She's a completely different story. You lay one fucking finger on her and I'll castrate you with a rusty fucking knife. Got it?"

John sneered and he wrenched away from her. "Got it, your highness."

"Mark my words, Lennon, you're dead in my book," she barked before showing herself out.

John massaged his bruised skin as he watched her leave. She was most definitely going to pay for that.

* * *

George felt numb. His heart grew heavy and cold as nothing but trash was spewed from Lennon's mouth. He couldn't believe him, he just _couldn't_. How did things end up this way? He had to be lying…right?

His friends, not including John, turned worried eyes on him. They were just as speechless as he was, though Paul had a completely different reason other than compassion. His heart ached just as much as George's but he would never tell any of them that.

The group minus John had been practicing some of their more recent songs for the movie. They were laughing and joking and having a good time.

"How goes Cristina, Rings?" Paul asked while playing an acoustic version of his new song "Can't Buy Me Love".

Ringo frowned. "I don't really know. I saw her the other day and she seemed…off. Did I do something wrong?"

George chuckled. His relationship was going swell so he couldn't really relate. Annie was as amazing as ever. She was truly something special, despite her faults. No one was perfect so it was fine with him that she had a few issues. At first he was frustrated that she wouldn't let him do anything other than kiss her but as he got to know her more he thought maybe she was just insecure. He wasn't used to girl's resisting him but that was all the more alluring to him. A girl that wouldn't throw herself at him made her a challenge, which he positively loved. Just the other day, however, she let him in. Or...did she? The day Cynthia was over her flat was the day he assumed she had succumbed to the Harrison charm. He woke up with such a raging hangover, though, so he could hardly remember anything and for whatever reason, Annie wouldn't tell him. His imagination let him belive how great that night was.

"Girls are just temperamental, is all," George stated simply to which the others nodded in agreement.

"I just feel like she's acting this way because of something I did," Ringo sighed.

"Don't worry about it, she'll be better in a few days," Paul assured him.

"What is this, a woman's knitting circle?"

They glanced at the door where John had just entered, depositing his bag on the table. He smirked at the rest of the group and stood near George.

"Are we all sharing our feelings?"

"No need to be so snarky, Lennon," Ringo muttered.

"No need to be a little whiny bitch, Rings."

"Play nice boys," George Martin warned from the sound booth.

"Yeah, yeah," they all waved off his words.

"So are we talking about the gals?" John asked as he sat beside them.

"Maybe."

"Things aren't going well with Cris, I assume?"

"That's none of your business."

John smirked and turned to Paul. "How's Jane?"

"She's alright."

"That's all?"

"Yes."

He shrugged and then set his sights on George. "What about Annie?"

"What about her?"

"I heard gingers are good in bed and just wanted to see if it was true."

"Oh."

"Well?"

"I suppose."

John's smirk grew wider. "You wouldn't know, would you?"

"Of course I would."

"No, you wouldn't. She hasn't let you get anywhere near her, has she?"

George began to grow uncomfortable. How could John know about that?

John cackled and leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. "She probably thought you wouldn't live up to her last great conquest."

George stiffened. "And who might that be?"

"Me."

Everything happened so fast. Paul watched as John suddenly toppled over in his chair and George yanked him from the floor. His fist collided with John's face and the two scuffled while Paul and Ringo watched in shock.

"That is enough!"

George Martin ran down to the fighting pair and separated them. The other George was panting and glaring daggers. John managed to look cocky even as he wiped the blood from his face.

"Please tell me I misheard and my niece did _not_ sleep with you, John," Martin asked as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Nope, you heard me right."

"Fuck you, John!" George snapped. "You're lying, I know it!"

John's face darkened. "The night we went to your birthday dinner at the club she ran into me after she apparently had a row with Paul and I had her right then and there."

"Why can't you keep it in your fucking pants, man? Or better yet, keep it in your wife!"

"Stop it this instant!" Martin beckoned for Ringo and Paul to grab a hold of the struggling boys. "I don't want to hear anymore of Annie's escapades. John, I expected better of you. For one thing you have a wife. And another, she's your friend's girl. You should know better."

"But I don't," John told him honestly.

"It's not like it's stopped him before," George cried in exasperation. "The one girl I actually want you have to steal her from me. That's not something a friend would do!"

"I never said I was a nice person, George," John told him bluntly before shaking Ringo off and leaving in a huff.

George and Paul watched, both feeling dismay sink into their bones.


	14. The Death

**AN: New chapter, yayyayyay :) I'm not sure when I'll get another chapter up because I have nothing written after this. Actually I do but its one of the end chapters...meh. Anyway, winter break starts soon! I'm excited. It doesn't feel like winter right now, though. Its like 70 degrees outside. Not that I mind. It was nearly 30 the other day and I was freezing. That's Florida weather for ya. This is all irrelavant but I felt I should share it with you :D On to the story!**

* * *

"Annie, can I talk to you?"

Annie sighed and set down the notebook she had been writing in. She was currently working on a piece for a newspaper back in Florida she promised she would give. Of course when word got out that she knew the Beatles she had been asked to get an intimate take on them. Naturally, she decided to go with the highest bidder.

"What's up?" she asked as she gently placed her glasses on the coffee table.

Cristina surveyed her over the ice cream tub she was eating out of. Her spoon dug tiny trenches in the creamy sweet while she pondered whether or not she should truly say anything. Annie was her best friend. She had a right to know. There was an unwritten rule governing over every friendship in the universe that basically said you tell your best friends everything. But what if you were too scared to say something?

"Are you going to spit it out or continue stuffing your face?" Annie questioned, not unkindly.

"I…I need you to do me a favor."

Annie cocked her head to the side and attempted to analyze her friend. Cristina had been acting quite odd lately and perhaps she was about to tell her what exactly the problem was. Over the last few weeks she had grown quiet and subdued, choosing to sit at home with Maggie or by herself while the others went out. Her new attitude may seem normal to some people but when it was Cristina, spunky, vivacious Cristina, there was most certainly an issue.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yeah…maybe, I don't know." She took a bite of the ice cream and slowly pulled the spoon from her mouth before speaking again. "I think I'll be okay but I just really need you to do something for me."

Annie smiled reassuringly. "Anything for you."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"Once I tell you what it is you can't call me a coward or back out."

This suddenly didn't sound like a good idea. "Just tell me."

* * *

Annie stood uncertainly outside of the film set for "A Hard Day's Night". She couldn't believe she had gotten roped into this. After Cristina told her what she needed to do, she instantly wanted to call her a "fucking idiotic coward" and flat out tell her she wasn't doing it. Unfortunately she made the biggest promise of all: the pinky promise.

Sighing, she sucked up all of the courage she could find and entered the studio. She gave a small wave to her uncle who was arguing over something with the director and continued forward. Paul was seated before a makeup artist, who he was casually flirting with. When he caught wind of Annie he immediately stopped speaking and glanced the other way, an out of place blush filling his cheeks.

"What're you blushing for?" the woman asked him with a cheeky grin.

Annie rolled her eyes at their little banter. "Paul, where's Rich?"

"Hi to you too, Annie," he said, winking at the girl in front of him.

"Answer the fucking question, McCartney!"

The girl gasped. "You should learn to respect Mr. McCartney!"

"You should learn to keep out of other people's business," Annie snapped.

Paul watched intently as the artist placed a hand on her hip and glared at his oldest friend. He sure did love cat fights. "Who do you think you are?"

"Yeah, I don't have time for you," Annie said, irritated. "Ringo!" she shouted.

"Who's there?" Ringo asked, rounding the corner.

"We need to talk."

His face fell. Those were words you never wanted to hear. "What did I do now?"

"I'll tell you once we go somewhere where there are no nosy or bitchy pests," she said as she glanced at the makeup artist in disgust.

"Is Cristina breaking up with me?" he asked frantically.

Annie sighed and grabbed his shirt. "Just come with me."

She led him to an empty office a ways away from Paul and that bimbo. He fell into a chair and she sat on the desk, legs crossed.

"This is about Cristina, though, right?" Ringo asked, biting his lip. She nodded mutely but said no more. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine. Look, I don't quite know how to say this."

He hung his head. "I get it; she doesn't want to be with me anymore. You don't have to say anything."

"Ringo—"

"I guess I'm not good enough for her."

"Will you just—"

"I don't blame her either. Who would want to be with a little guy like me?"

"For the love of—"

"She's far too good for me."

"Ringo, she's pregnant!"

That certainly caught his attention. He slowly looked up at Annie, seeing nothing but the truth in her bright green eyes. "But…how?"

"You see, when a man loves a woman—"

"No, I know that! Who'd she get knocked up by?"

Annie tapped her fingers against the desk impatiently. "Ringo, love, she's not that far along and she's only been with one guy since she came to England. And that guy is you."

What little color he had in his face slowly drained at each of her words. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't have gotten Cristina…no, he couldn't even think the word. It was impossible.

"I'm not kidding, Rich. The day you ran into her in town was when she had her doctor's appointment."

"Oh goodness."

"I know."

They sat in stunned silence for what seemed like years. Finally, Ringo had to ask what had been bothering him.

"Why has she been avoiding me?"

"She's scared," Annie answered quietly.

He nodded. "What should I do?"

"Help her in whatever way you can."

"Annie?"

Standing in the doorway was a pale Cristina. She wrung her hands uncomfortably, waiting for someone to say something. Ringo stood and made to walk over to her.

"Cris, love, I—"

"Not now Ringo," she snapped. He cringed at her harsh tone and a look of regret crossed over her face, though it was gone in mere seconds. "Annie, your mom called."

Annie scoffed. "What'd she want? Can't be too important. Did she call to say she's finally leaving that fucking bastard of a father I have? Good riddance."

Cristina winced. "Annie, he's dead."

"What?"

"Your dad, he's…he's dead, Ann."

Paul walked into the room just as Cristina delivered her bout of bad news. He came to an abrupt halt behind her, unsure of what to do or say. All eyes were on Annie as she processed this. When she only stood there, not displaying any emotion, Cristina decided to go on.

"He…He's been really sick, Irene said. He had cancer of some sort and it finally got the better of him. She and Maggie are a mess it seems."

Annie shook her head in disbelief. "I guess I better get over there then."

Ringo locked eyes with Paul. He couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. Annie just found out her father, the man that helped create her and raise her since she was born was gone for good. Yet here she was—a blank and unreadable expression on her face. She was perfectly composed when if anyone else were in that situation, they would be a wreck. Paul merely shook his head, not wanting to explain at the moment.

Annie glided to the door in a daze, her face vague. Paul gave her shoulder a squeeze as she passed him. She turned to look at him but all he saw were dry tear ducts. On the way out a disgruntled looking George stood in her path. He looked as if he wanted to say something hateful but at the look on her face he instantly softened. She gave him a grim smile before leaving.

"What happened?" George asked once she was gone.

"She'll tell you when she's ready," Paul answered, suddenly very worried for his friend. He knew she was tough but she would break eventually. He only hoped she would survive the crumbling foundation of her ever-present wall.

* * *

Annie entered her apartment and closed the door behind her, leaning against it as she breathed a sigh of relief. The day had been an extraordinarily long one. After she left the boys and Cristina she made her way to her mother's house. She was greeted with a very somber Maggie. Apparently Wilbert had been napping with her in her bedroom (Annie's old room) when he was woken by a terrible coughing spell. Maggie rushed to the kitchen for his medicine but when she came back, it was too late. He lay motionless on the bed, his eyes wide open, staring unseeingly at the cold void that suddenly filled the home. She refused to enter the room after that.

Irene was another story. While Maggie was infatuated with the man, Irene's love had died down long ago so she was uncertain as to what her feelings on the situation should be. She did love him, she really did. But it was a long time ago. It dawned on her, however, that even after all of those tumultuous years her feelings still rang true. When little Maggie came running screaming her lungs out about something that happened to her pap she couldn't react then. She needed to remain strong for her littlest child. Later that evening, she realized she would always love Wilbert, and some part of her knew he loved her too. Together they created a stable life and the vivacious redhead she loved to death. And she loved Wilbert for that. It may not have been the love a woman should have felt towards her husband; rather it was a friendly sort of love. Either way, she cried herself to sleep about him that night.

Annie couldn't bring herself to cry. Yes, Wilbert was her father. Yes, he had cared for her for most of her life. But he had left her with far too many emotional scars. He provided her with the necessities for survival but he had killed her on the inside, leaving her broken and cold. That's why she was the way she was today: her father had turned her into a twisted person who thrived off of cynicism and harshness. She acted out and did all sorts of questionable things seeking the attention she was deprived of. People hated her for that but if they knew the reason behind it they would rethink their view on the girl.

Over the years he had abused her, both physically and mentally. Now that he was gone what was she supposed to do? Cry for days on end over the loss of a great man, like Maggie was? If people expected that from her they could take a long walk off of a short pier for all she cared. For most of her life she hated Wilbert, absolutely _loathed_ him. He was dead now. Why did she feel so empty inside, then?

She collapsed on the couch and sighed, massaging her throbbing temples. What was left of the Holloway family had gathered at her family home to discuss the funeral arrangements and what would be done with the possession old Will left behind. Maggie cowered into her side throughout the whole ordeal, visibly cringing whenever someone said the word "dead" or any variation of it. When she wasn't moping she would look up at her sister with her miserable doe eyes, wondering why she wasn't as upset as everyone else. Annie met her stare with a cool one of her own. If Maggie was correct the look clearly said, "I don't care."

Maggie couldn't understand that. Wilbert was really Annie's father, not hers. Why did she care more about his death than she did? It wasn't that Annie didn't care, though. She was merely confused and slightly disheartened, not that anyone could tell.

There was one person who knew it was going to happen. This person knew she would snap sooner or later, preferably sooner. As she sat on her sofa suddenly experiencing a horrendous case of the shakes, there was a soft knock at the door. She jumped at the sound and tried to steady her breathing and trembling frame. She forced herself to stand and answer whoever was waiting just outside.

Paul waited a good five minutes for Annie to open the door. When he realized it was probably a lost cause he turned to leave but just as he did, he heard her call to him. He turned slowly and faced her, trying not to give away his shock at the sight of her. Just this morning she was so vibrant and full of life. Now she looked like death warmed over. He mentally winced at that. Not a nice thought at the moment. Her hair hung limply, framing her pale face splashed with red from the suppressed emotions. Her eyes were dull and lifeless, giving her the look of someone who has seen truly terrible things in their life. For her that was probably true but she had never shown signs of weakness.

He may have been angry with her for whatever she had done around that time but she was his best friend. He knew he had to be there for her through this, even if she would say she didn't give a damn about Wilbert's death. There was a part of her that didn't believe that and Paul knew her too well to believe it either. He stood fixed in the doorway as she gazed at him silently, her tremors back once more.

Just as she looked about to collapse he swept into the room and wrapped his arms around her. She instantly melted into his embrace and that triggered the tears. She cried in earnest on his shoulder, not even caring that she was ruining his new suit. In all of the time Paul had known her, he had never once seen her cry. He knew this recent event had troubled her deeply and seeing his Herculean Annie so vulnerable was unsettling. What was even more unsettling was he knew exactly how she felt. He led her over to the sofa once more where she rested her head in his lap, tears still streaming down her face. He tenderly caressed her hair as she released all of her hurt and pain. They sat like that for hours, in their mutual understanding, until Annie drifted off into a peaceful oblivion.


	15. The Storm

**AN: Dear whoever happens to read this, I just thought I'd let you know that you all mean so much to me that I pulled myself away from a riveting game of Zombies on Black Ops to get this chapter done. That, my friends, is love. Meh, I'm kind of iffy on this chapter. Not sure if it's on par with my usual writing but whateverz. I'll let you decide. Sorry for making George seem so...un-George and slightly mean. I love him dearly and his behavior in this does not reflect my personal views on the real George in any way. Anyway, I do believe the end is near. And I don't mean the zombie apocalypse. I'd give this story a few more chapters and it shall be over. In case you didn't know, I've started a new story about Johnny and I think you should all go check it out, yeah? :) On with the story! Read and review! :D  
**_

* * *

The day was young and dreary. High above in the murky blue skies, the sun was barely visible to the world. Slowly, it ascended into its post, providing a thin realm of light for an eleven year old Paul McCartney. The boy groggily rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he followed his mother into their kitchen. He scowled at the older woman as she flicked a switch on the wall, flooding the room with artificial illumination._

"_It's too bright," he whined, seating himself at the table._

_She clucked her tongue and placed a gentle hand on his cheek. "It's morning, love. We need to see!"_

"_Can't you turn the lights off?"_

"_You want me to turn the sun off while I'm at it?"_

_Paul chuckled. "You can't do that!"_

"_Aye, I can do anything if I set my mind to it." She winked and continued searching the kitchen for something. Finally, she produced a small bottle of thick red cough syrup and a shiny silver spoon._

_Paul eyed the objects in horror. "Please don't. I'm fine, I promise you!" As if on cue, he fell victim to a horrible coughing spell that lasted for a minute or two._

_Mary raised her brows. "You don't need it, do you? It sure sounds like you do."_

"_I don't!"_

"_Paul, dear, I will not have you waking up the entire house with your hacking. Now you'll take this before I have to force it down your throat, alright?"_

_He pouted and turned away. "I don't like it."_

_She sighed and used a finger to return his gaze back to her. "I know it's no fun to take but you need it to get better. When I was your age I never wanted to take this stuff but it helped me. You've been sick for days now; don't you want to be healthy?"_

_He nodded._

"_Will you take your medicine?"_

_He nodded again, though this time it was more hesitant._

_She smiled. "That's my boy." She was in the process of uncorking the bottle when her kitchen door flew open._

"_Annie!" Paul exclaimed, hopping out of his chair to greet his friend._

_The young girl was gasping for breath as she leant against the door, her legs buckling under overuse. Her green eyes were wide with fear as she glanced warily at the other people in the room. She shoved a strand of dark red hair behind her ear before hastily putting it back in its original position. Once she was more herself, she chanced a weak smile._

"_You lot should lock your door," she said dully._

_Paul pulled her into a hug and held her at arms' length, examining her trembling frame. "You alright?"_

_She nodded mechanically and moved away from him towards the table. She collapsed into a chair and looked up at Mary. "Morning, Mrs. McCartney."_

"_Good morning, Annie," Mary replied, smoothing the girl's hectic hair. She felt Annie cringe suddenly, her eyes glued to the window. Across the street, her father was shuffling about the yard, throwing murderous glances at the McCartney residence. Mary frowned. "Is everything alright, Annie?"_

_She didn't answer, merely stared at the glass in front of her. When her father disappeared inside, she unfroze. "Yes, ma'am, everything is alright."_

_She didn't believe her. Annie knew she didn't believe her. But she was glad when she said nothing. "If you say so. You can always come here if there's a problem. You know that, right?"_

_Annie smiled her first true genuine smile of that day. "Yes, ma'am, I do. Thank you."_

"_Please, call me Mary." Mother and son shared a significant look but Paul didn't seem to understand it. Mary tilted her head towards Annie and then towards her house but he only stared dumbly at her._

"_Is there something wrong with your neck, mum?"_

_Mary sighed. "No, Paul, there's not. Now take your medicine, will ya?"_

_He reluctantly obliged and opened his mouth, allowing his mother to administer the foul liquid. He grimaced and shivered as it slid down his throat._

"_Ugh, that's horrible."_

"_Man up, Paulie," Annie said with a giggle. "I take that stuff all the time when I'm sick and I never put up any fight about it."_

"_Ah, if only you were as brave as Annie, Paul," Mary said in faux disappointment._

"_If only," Annie chimed in, smirking._

_Paul glowered. "I am brave!"_

"_We know that, dear," Mary said as she caressed his cheek. She placed a hand on his forehead and frowned. "Oh, you're burning up. Let's get you back to bed, shall we?"_

"_Can't I play with Annie?" he asked hopefully, throwing a look at his best friend who seemed indifferent._

"_She can sit with you in your room for a while but you must rest. I'll bring you up some chicken soup. How's that?"_

"_With those little crackers?"_

"_Of course."_

"_Okay!"_

_Mary leaned down to kiss the top of her son's head and together, the two made the trip up to Paul's room where she would tuck him into his bed. Neither saw the look of longing etched onto Annie's face as she viewed their affections with envy._

Paul watched Annie bustle about her kitchen in the present. She made a great deal of fuss over making the tea, all the while not returning his gaze.

"I can feel you lookin' at me," she said suddenly, her back to him. "It's kinda creeping me out."

"Sorry," he replied, though he wasn't sorry at all.

She sighed and sat at the table across from him. "What's on your mind?"

"I was thinking about us as kids."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"What about?"

"Do you remember that time you ran over to my house really early in the morning?"

"The time you were sick and were too much of a pansy to take your medicine?"

"I took it in the end, didn't I?"

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. What's the point of this?"

"The reason you came over…" he began slowly. "Your dad, he…he hurt you, didn't he?"

Her eyes widened slightly but other than that, she displayed no visible shock. "Why do you ask?"

"My mum told me she noticed you tense up when your dad was outside. I was afraid something was up but whenever anyone asked, you said you were fine. Why did you lie all this time?"

"Who said I lied?"

"Annie, I _know_ you are."

She scoffed. "It took you all of this time to figure that out?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" he pressed again.

"What could you have possibly done?" she challenged loudly. "My father was a high class citizen who had so much influence he could've run the damn city. So what if he smacked me around? So what if my mother knew and didn't do a damn thing about it because she was afraid? So what if he hurt me every day of my life and didn't care that he was ruining me? You were a fucking kid, Jimmy. What on earth could you have done?"

"I could've had my parents take you away."

She laughed bitterly. "You honestly think he would've stood for that?"

He saw the anger and desperation flash through her eyes. She said no one could have done anything but he knew what she really wanted was to ask why no one tried to save her. She gnawed her bottom lip in an effort to contain her tears. The fact that people thought something was wrong and yet did nothing to stop it made her feel even worse. She began thinking she wasn't worth their time, their effort. And that hurt.

"Annie," Paul started, reaching for her hand. She hastily withdrew it.

"Just leave, will ya?"

He stared at her, dumbfounded. "You want me to leave?"

"Yes," she retorted shortly.

"But—"

"Just go!"

He stood automatically and his legs carried him towards the door without his permission. "Annie, if you ever need someone to talk to I'm here, okay?"

She said nothing, instead stared blankly into her cup of tea. Paul sighed and hung his head in defeat. He pulled open her front door, suddenly jumping back in shock.

"Where is she?" George demanded, pushing past him into the room giving Paul a funny look.

"Annie!"

Annie blinked rapidly, forcing the tears to stay put. She slowly raised her eyes to the new occupant of the room.

"Hullo," she said bleakly. "What're you doing here?"

He met her vacant stare with a scowl, apparently oblivious to her frazzled state. "I've heard some things."

"That sounds lovely."

"You know what would be lovely?" he asked, pulling up a chair beside her. She cocked an eyebrow in an invitation for him to continue. "If we had a repeat of the other night." He trailed a finger up her arm enticingly.

Annie stiffened and stood suddenly. She crossed over to the counter, cup in hand and her back to George. "Nothing happened that night."

"Whaddya mean?"

"You passed out drunk before anything _could _happen."

He walked over and stood behind her. "That doesn't mean we can't do anything today, does it?"

She sighed. "Not today, George."

"It's because of John, isn't it?"

She choked on a sip of tea and whirled about to face him. "Pardon me?"

"You're afraid I won't live up to your last great conquest, aren't you?" The words John used tasted bitter in George's mouth.

"Who told you that?" she demanded, crossing her arms.

"John did."

She raised her brows. "He did, did he?"

"Tell me he was lying." She averted her gaze and said nothing, which was all the answer he needed. "I knew it. Dammit, I knew it! Why would you do that, Annie? You're supposed to be with me, not him!"

"It was a mistake, George," she offered meekly. "I was drunk and you know you do stupid things when under the influence."

"That's not a good enough excuse," he countered harshly.

"You act like you wouldn't do the same," she challenged. "I wouldn't be surprised if you've done the same thing, probably with that hag Pattie Boyd. I see the way you look at her. And all the men in your band are known to be notorious womanizers. It's only a matter of time before you screw up as well, if you haven't already!"

"Why would you even say something like that? We're not talking about me, we're talking about you! I've done nothing like that because I love you!"

That brought her up short. "What?"

"I love you," he replied in a softer tone. "I just don't understand why you'd choose John over me."

Suddenly overcome with a misplaced anger, she narrowed her eyes at him. "My father just _died_, George. Excuse me if I don't want to hop into bed with you under the current situation, you ass!"

George watched horrified as she stormed out of the apartment. He winced when the door slammed, the sound reverberating in his ears. A sleepy looking Cristina emerged from her bedroom. She looked from George to the front door and glared at him.

"What the hell did you do?" she demanded.

"I didn't know her dad died," he told her honestly.

"Did you not notice how strange she looked? She's under a lot of stress, George. She doesn't need anymore from you. Excuse me while I go prevent her from doing anything she'll regret later on, like killing John." She pushed past him and left him standing in the middle of the living room, alone.

* * *

Annie felt an odd sense of déjà vu as she made her way across town. Fury scorched her veins, igniting an anger deep within. She was mad at her father for being who he was and suddenly dropping dead. She was mad at her mother for not doing anything to help her growing up. She was mad at Maggie for being so damn cute and loveable. She was mad at Cristina for getting herself knocked up. She was mad at Ringo for knocking Cristina up. She was mad at Paul for rejecting her all of those years ago. She was mad at George for being an insensitive bastard. She was even mad at herself but she didn't care about that right now. At the moment, all of her anger suddenly shifted onto one person: John Lennon.

She bounded up the walkway of the Lennon home and rapped smartly on the front door. Cynthia opened it with a smile.

"Hello Annie," she welcomed jovially. "How are you? I wasn't expecting you to come to our little get-together with all things considered."

Annie ignored the fact that she knew nothing of a get-together they were hosting. "I'm good, Cyn. Is John in?"

"Yes, he's just through the kitchen." She opened the door wider for Annie to pass through.

Annie nodded her thanks and immediately went to the kitchen. She smiled kindly at Julian before she discovered her prey standing about with Ringo, Paul, and Jane.

"Hello Annabelle," he greeted with a smirk. "How's it going?"

"I'll tell you how it's going, you swine!" She shouted, reaching for a knife on the counter and lunging at him. The entire room was suddenly in an uproar. John hastily threw himself against the wall while Ringo and Paul grabbed a hold of Annie. Jane shrieked, causing Cynthia to dash in.

"What is going on?" she demanded.

"I'm going to fucking kill him!" was Annie's only response. "I hate you!"

"Why, because I was being honest with George?" John questioned. "He would've found out sooner or later, you know."

"But no one asked you to be a dick and tell him!" Annie accused.

"Can someone _please_ explain what this is about?" Cynthia tried again.

John's eyes shifted to her momentarily before returning back to Annie. "I slept with her," he told his wife bluntly.

Cynthia blanched and walked away without another word. An irritated shriek left the mouth of the flailing Annie.

"Let me go," she insisted.

"Not until you calm down!" Ringo said.

"This isn't even about him," John said in a quiet voice, to low for all to hear save for Annie. "I know you don't really care about George. It's always been Paul. I'm not blind."

She growled and tried to yank the hand holding the knife out of her captor's grip.

"Annie Elle Holloway, you cut this out right now!"

Everyone turned to see Cristina barge in. She shoved John out of the way and snatched the knife from her friend's hand.

"Are you _mad_?" she asked, shoving an accusing finger in her face. "What would killing him have done? Absolutely nothing, that's what!"

"But I hate him," Annie persisted, her voice faltering as angry tears threatened to spill over.

Cristina sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "You're going through a lot now. I get that. But you don't need this. No one does."

"Especially you, Cris," John suddenly said. "Seeing as how you're carrying a little Ringo junior in there, yeah?"

Cristina's eyes went wide. The others gasped and faced her. Cristina slowly picked the knife off of the counter and made to give it back to Annie.

"No!" everyone shouted. Paul took the weapon away and quickly stowed it in a drawer. Nearly the entire room sighed in relief once the threat had passed.

Annie walked up to John, smacked him, and ran out of the house. Cristina smacked John's other cheek and chased after her. Ringo followed.

"What the hell just happened?" Jane asked in a daze.

Paul patted John's shoulder. "You've sure got class, mate." The older man scowled and gathered ice for his bruised face.

Before Annie stepped out of the front door, she turned to Cynthia who was seated on the sofa nursing something that was obviously alcoholic. "I'm really sorry, Cyn," she choked out. "I didn't mean to, I honestly didn't."

Cynthia surveyed her with lowered lids. "Leave my house, please."

Annie fought back a sob but nodded and left. She barely made it to the sidewalk when she was overcome with tears.

Cristina skipped down the front steps, eager to console her friend, when someone called out to her. She turned and frowned when she saw who it was.

"Can we talk about this?" Ringo asked, hesitantly approaching her.

"What is there to talk about?" she countered.

"Cris, I want to help you through this. I really do."

"I don't need your help, Ringo," she hissed. "I've taken care of myself perfectly fine for the past twenty-two years so I think I'm capable of handling another little being. I don't need you to feel sorry for me. I know that's all this is. You regret everything that happened and this is your way of trying to make up for it. Well you can stop with the act. You can go live your perfect little rock star life, go sleep with whomever you fancy at the moment, and leave me the hell alone! I don't need you!"

He recoiled from the harsh words piercing his tough emotional skin. When she continued down the walkway to Annie, he didn't follow her.

The two girls clung to each other as if their lives depended on it as they made their way home. In a way, they did. How else were they to survive the metaphorical storm their lives had so quickly become?


	16. The Fight Or Flight

**AN: Happy New Year! I can't believe it's 2011 already. I can't wait until 2012, though. That's the year I graduate and get to see if those thirteen years of school were a waste if the world does end. So I've had this chapter written for ages but I wasn't going to post it for quite some time. Honestly, though, I can't think of anything to fit between this and last chapter and I kind of want to end this story so as I mentioned in whatever chapter, the end is near for Annie Holloway's fictional life. This happens a few weeks after where we left off, I suppose, so everyone is pretty much cordial to one another. Not for long... Mwahaha ;] And I apologize again for making George seem so horrible but (plus side!) this chapter isn't as depressing as last (I hope). I have the urge to read Go Ask Alice again while listening to Jefferson Airplane. I think I might go do that now. **

**PS. I'm one more review away from having 60. Anyone wanna be that special person? :)  
**

* * *

George unlocked his door and Annie followed him in. She trailed a finger across the freshly cleaned table and smiled. The place looked like somewhere he would live. It just screamed George. There were guitars and little scraps of paper with forgotten lyrics lingering everywhere.

"I thought Ringo was staying with you?" she asked.

"He's got his own place now."

George smiled and walked closer to her. He grabbed her waist and pulled her against him. He toyed with one of the long curls that framed her face, thinking. There was one thing he wanted, one thing he desperately needed. It was a desire so strong only _she_, Annie, could satisfy. And he wanted it _now_. No more waiting.

He kissed her, gently at first. She immediately responded. But then the kiss became deeper, much more intense. He clung to her and she held her arms around his neck, locking him in place. Their breathing became ragged and they suddenly found their feet moving, taking them away from the front entrance. George had her against a wall, his hands moving up her shirt. Abruptly, everything clicked. Annie tensed.

"George, no," she said exasperatedly, attempting to keep his mouth off of her. That was much easier said than done.

"Why not?" He growled. His lips ran along her collarbone and his fingers worked on the buttons of her shirt.

"Because I don't want to!" She angrily pushed his hands away.

"So you'll mess around with John but not even give me a chance?"

Her blood ran cold. Those words pierced her heart and had her gasping for breath. He had told her he forgave her for that. Yet now, here he was, dredging things from her questionable past and bringing it up at a most inconvenient time. She wanted to hit something, preferably him.

"Excuse me?"

"You slept with John the first chance you got," he said venomously. "You know, your actions resemble that of a common whore."

She narrowed her eyes. Oh those pretty eyes that forewarned a serious danger. "Don't you dare, don't you dare say that!"

"Why, because you know it's true? I thought you cared about me!" He cried in exasperation. "Why would you run off and screw Lennon if all of those things you said to me were real?"

Annie ran a hand through her wild untamed curls. Shaking slightly from the pressing rage, she rounded on him. "Shut the fuck up, George! I do care! I did!"

"Did?"

"Yes, 'did', you ass. I thought we were over this? I _told_ you what happened and it didn't mean a damn thing to me. But you always bring it up when something doesn't go your way. Grow the fuck up."

"No, I think you're the one who needs to grow up, Annie. You're off flouncing about with guys and bullying girls who may be obnoxious but they don't deserve it—"

"How the hell did Jane get dragged into this?"

"—and you're just making a fool of yourself, Annie! I tried to love you but you wouldn't let me!"

"So this is love, then? Constantly reminding me of how much of a screw-up I am? If it is, I don't want it!"

For a moment, his resolve crumbled. He became vulnerable, turning sad eyes on her. "Why won't you let me love you?"

"Because I can't love you."

"It's John, isn't it?"

Irritation flared again. "No, this has nothing to do with John or Jane or anyone else! This is about _us_, George, stop bringing other people into this mess!"

That old expression "fight fire with fire" flitted about his brain. So he did. "Maybe if you stopped being such a fucking train wreck we wouldn't be in this mess right now!"

She slammed her fists against his chest. The action was unexpected and threw him off. "Don't you fucking say that! I know who I am, and I'm not a train wreck!"

"Then stop acting like one, damn it!"

"Or maybe you should stop being a fucking douche bag queer who cries whenever he can't fuck the first human thing that takes an interest in him! Screw you Harrison! I'm done!"

She saw it before she felt it. The world slowed but she remained in the same speed. He was yelling something at her but she couldn't hear it. All that really processed in her hazy mind was the raised arm. It wasn't something that would have happened had he not been provoked. But she had to run her damn mouth and get herself in this situation. The strike took forever to happen but once it did, her ears were buzzing uncomfortably from the impact.

She didn't run because she was afraid. No, Annie Eleanor Holloway doesn't get scared. When George hit her, her mind waged war over what her next course of action should be. Every neuron in her body was transmitting one message spelled out in bright neon lights: _fight back_. Her hands curved into vicious claws that wished to scratch that stupid look off of his face. Her head was screaming at her to hit him, throw that ugly vase at him, do something, _anything_. But she couldn't.

Their eyes locked for one fleeting second. His wide brown ones mirrored her own in a mix of shock, hurt, and _regret_. The apology was spelled all over his face. Part of her wished she could have said something. Instead, she listened to that minuscule piece of her brain that triggered the immediate flight instinct. So she ran.

Her legs carried her far away from the once comforting ambience of the flat she had spent so much time in as of late. No, she was definitely not afraid. It was more of an intense disbelief. Had George Harrison, the sweet boy who she remembered from her childhood, had he really just hit her? Perhaps this was some sort of demented dream she was in, one where everything was topsy-turvy. Yes, that had to be it. Was that a white rabbit that just ran ahead of her?

The thing that was bothering her the most, however, was the strange sense of déjà vu that gave her. She was horribly reminded of her father, a man she hated with so much passion it hurt her. But she didn't hate George. She could never. She may hold a grudge against him for a while but nothing as severe as hate. After all, she was the cold hearted bitch that broke _his_ heart. Did that justify his barbaric means of getting a point across, the very same Wilbert Holloway used on his daughter when his wife was away? Of course not.

That's what hurt the most.

That's why she ran.

All of a sudden, she found herself running into something, or rather some_one_. He pulled her back and stared at her, worry etched into his face. She glanced around and gave a little huff of annoyance. Figures her legs would take her here, a place she would prefer to avoid for as long as possible.

"Annie, what happened?" Paul asked. There was nothing but concern in his eyes and she hated him for that.

"Nothing," she retorted, looking away from those eyes, oh _curse_ those eyes.

"Please don't lie to me. You're hurt, I can tell."

There was that anger again. It filled her icy heart, warming her tremendously. Her frame shook violently. Paul was afraid she was going into shock. The rage boiled over, oozing from every single pore. Everything was tinted in an angry red.

She slapped him.

She couldn't control it, it just happened. Paul was in a state of shock. He was pretty certain he did nothing to deserve that. He watched as she stared back at him, eyes wide and lower lip trembling. Her arm rose again in a mechanical motion but he caught her. She tried to wrench free but he was too strong for her. She fought him every inch of the way but he had both of her wrists locked in his tight grip. A frustrated shriek escaped her lips and she finally gave up. Annie was cracking, her wall was tumbling down. What he was witnessing right now was her break down. She erupted into a fit of tears and slumped against the cold pavement.

In a matter of minutes she was a blubbering mess. In all of the time he had known her, this had to have been the second time he'd seen her cry, the first being when her father died. Paul felt as if someone took a hammer and a chisel and cracked his heart in two. He absolutely hated seeing her like this but he had to admit he felt a small bit of relief seeing as he wasn't the one putting her through this.

"Annie, please tell me what's wrong," he pleaded. Her cries only grew more frantic. This seemed to be a sort of alternate ending to their last meeting in 1959. Thank goodness she didn't cry then. That may have made him feel even more horrible after she left.

When he gave up on her being coherent anytime soon he decided to try a new tactic. "Annie, love, if I tell you something, a sort of secret if you will, will you promise to stop crying?"

She gazed at him with curiosity, a whimper being all that came from her mouth. He took that as a confirmation to go on and eased her up from the floor, wrapping his arms around her waist to keep her from falling.

"There's something I haven't told anyone…something that could hurt someone if I do say it."

"What is it?" she croaked. Of course her intrigue would silence her sobbing. Typical Annie.

He began twirling them slowly on the spot in a dance to a tune only he knew.

"When you left me, I was totally distraught. I did go looking for you the next day but your mother told me you had left to stay at your cousin's in Ireland. How was I supposed to get to you then? I needed you, Annie, like I needed oxygen to breath. I don't think you realized just how much you meant to me or how much you _still_ mean to me."

Her heart sputtered to life. Those words hit close to home, sparking an inane hope that would probably get crushed in a matter of seconds. But the way he was looking at her…No, she wouldn't allow herself to think like that. Especially not when she was in his presence.

"Annie, I didn't realize it until after you had left. That makes me a fool, doesn't it?" He laughed bitterly. "But I…I realized I couldn't live without you. I was just going through the motions, you know? After a while I became numb to the pain of your absence. I had to do it to be able to be where I am now. But I was never truly happy, not without you.

"I tried to force myself to believe I could see a future with Jane. I couldn't and to this day, I still don't. She's a great girl, don't get me wrong. Not someone I'd imagine you hanging around, though." He raised an eyebrow and she smiled weakly in response. He sighed. "Will you please tell me what's wrong?"

"You have to finish your story. What's the point of this?"

Always persistent, she was. "What I'm trying to say, Annie Elle, is that I love you. I always have and I always will."

Her heart took that as a sign to flutter uncontrollably. Those were the three little words she had longed to hear for so many years. Those words of love meant the world to her. Suddenly, she was on cloud nine, momentarily forgetting about the whole George fiasco. But something brought her quite roughly back to earth. Something didn't settle right with her.

Those thoughts, however, were pushed out of her head by the logical part of her mind. She was where she wanted to be, wrapped in Paul's arms. She couldn't exactly pin the exact moment she knew she loved him but she knew the general whereabouts: she was thirteen and on her walk home from his house she realized why she suddenly felt so light and giddy whenever in his presence. It was love. It was the feeling all of those sappy records her mum listened to crooned about. She was in love with James Paul McCartney.

And if what he said was true, he was in love with Annie Eleanor Holloway as well.

A small smile played on his handsome features as they continued their quiet revolving. She could almost feel the music that was playing loudly in his mind. The sound came closer, closer until they were nose to nose.

"Annie?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I kiss you?"

Of course he knew the answer, he was just teasing. Not even bothering to wait for a response he knew would never come he gently touched their lips together in a sweet kiss. But that wasn't enough for either of them. At the slightest touch they exploded and craved more. Paul's grip on Annie tightened as he deepened the kiss, all the while continuing their forbidden dance. He tasted her every thought and feeling. He tasted the saltiness of her tears and the unshed emotions lying beneath the surface.

She grabbed a hold of his hair and drew him even nearer. This kiss was so much different than any of the kisses she had experienced before, even the ones she shared with George. The difference was she actually _cared_. All of the love she couldn't give to any of those nameless faces was being poured into Paul because it was rightfully his.

But then there was that nagging feeling that gnawed at her insides. The kiss was everything she had hoped it to be and more. That wasn't the problem. It was what the outcome of this would be. This intimate encounter between the two was the beginning of a new life for the pair. In so many ways it was also the end of other things. It was the severed finality of previous relationships with other lovers, the possible brutal end to friendship. She didn't dare dwell on that while she passionately kissed the man she loved with all of her being. One thing did occur to her, though: they were slow dancing in a burning room.

"Annie!"

Startled, she reluctantly broke the kiss and looked towards the sound of her name.

"Annie, I am so sorry, I—"

George stared in wide eye shock at the scene before him. Annie was locked in a passionate embrace with his _best friend_. This was just too much for one night.

"George," she began, taking a step away from Paul and reaching towards him. "I—"

"Save it," he cut her off. "It's what's expected from a slag like you."

Paul thought that was low. George had just told him the other day he was in love with this girl. Why would he resort to calling her something so harsh?

"And I suppose it's also expected from my man whore of an _ex_-friend. Is Ringo in on this too?"

That was even lower. Paul was going to say something but stopped when he saw a red blur streak past that launched herself at George.

"You take that back!" Annie, currently straddling a surprised George, screeched before smacking him. "You take it back right now!"

Paul grabbed her and dragged her away. She aimed one good kick between George's legs before being hauled away completely. He rolled on the floor in pain.

"Fuck you all," he whispered in a strained voice.

They watched as he hoisted himself up, flipped them the bird, and stalked off in the opposite direction.

"Can you _please_ tell me what is going on now?" Paul demanded.

Annie's eyes sparkled with unshed tears. She looked absolutely miserable. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth as she fought to contain her emotions. It was all too much. She was bound to explode again.

"Life isn't fair," she answered feebly.

They were under the streetlight near his house now. For the first time tonight he fully took in her appearance. Her clothing was dirty, disheveled and torn from when she had fallen on the floor. Her alabaster skin was scraped from the painful gravel. Her scarlet curls were spilling out of the neat plait she had worn. Her eyes, those pretty emerald eyes, were puffy and red from all of her crying. The thing that pained Paul the most, though, was the angry red mark splashed across her cheek. It was identical to the one he was now sporting because of her. He gingerly traced his thumb along the sore cheek and she winced.

"He hates me, Paul," she whispered. She placed her hand over his and laced their fingers together. "I didn't mean to do anything with John, honestly I didn't. I apologized a million times, did anything I could to make him forgive me. But what he wanted, I…I couldn't give him.

"Why does he have to do that to me? I told him I was sorry! But he's always throwing that back in my face. Doesn't he realize how much that hurts? I know I'm a screw up. I don't need him to remind me every day."

"He's just upset, is all," Paul reasoned.

"Yes, I get that. And I know it's my fault but that doesn't justify what he did. He _hit_ me, Paul."

That shocked him. "George did this to you?"

"It was my fault, I know it. But he reminded me so much of me dad and—" she choked on the rest of the sentence. The tears were coming again.

"Oh no, Annie, please don't cry." He held her tightly and kissed the top of her head. "It's not your fault. What he did was wrong; please don't blame yourself for that."

"But then there's me dad," she cried. "I fucking hate the bastard! He's still breaking me even though he's long gone and I can't stand it! Every time I do something I can hear him in the back of me mind telling me how stupid I am or threatening to beat the crap out of me unless I do what he says and go quietly. What did I do to deserve that?

"And then there's you! When you told me those things before the New Year you killed me, you know that? I was on the verge of a breakdown hearing I wasn't good enough for ya. That's why I left, Paul, because I wouldn't be able to survive staying in this damned place any longer knowing you were there too but I couldn't have you. But I knew no matter what I would still love you.

"Even when I tried dating, you were always there, keeping me from true happiness. Those poor blokes would tell me they loved me and they wanted to hear me say it to them but I couldn't because I knew no one would even come close to you. I mean I could tell people like mum that I loved them or Cristina, in a platonic way and I guess now there's little Maggie. But never anyone else. I hated you for that, I really did!

"The worst thing, though? I gave up my dream, the one thing that meant the world to me. I wanted to do what you're doing now, you know? I wanted so bad to play my guitar for a living and entertain people with my songs but I couldn't. It reminded me too much of you. Whenever I picked up a guitar my heart ached because I knew somewhere you were probably doing the same thing. So I had mum sell it for money. She needed it more than me. I was absolutely devastated. I didn't want to become a writer but it's all I could think of that wouldn't cause me too much pain in memory of _you_. God, it was like Buddy Holly all over again! Because the day you told me you didn't love me was the day the music died in me."

Throughout her little speech Paul remained silent. He needed to hear what she had to say. He needed to know how much he hurt her. It killed him, yes, but it gave him some sort of closure. He watched as she breathed harshly, trying to keep the tears from falling that accumulated over the years because of her father, George, the death of her idol, _Paul_.

"Annie, love, listen to me."

She sniffled pathetically and nodded for him to continue.

"You are one of the strongest people I know. I know for a fact you can get through this. It's only a matter of how much you're willing to and the people you surround yourself with. I hate to see you cry, I really do. I have faith in you that you'll be okay. Just always remember I'll be here for you no matter what and I love you, Annie, I always have."

For a few worrisome seconds he thought she was going to turn him down. She was chewing on her lip once more as she stared up at him with her brow furrowed. But then she grabbed a hold of him and kissed him again. This one was possibly better than the first.

"I love you too, Paulie."

He flashed her that adorable grin that was a part of his irresistible McCartney charm. Her heart fluttered frenziedly but she must remain calm.

"I have to go, Paul."

"Why?"

She grudgingly removed herself from the reassuring circle of his strong arms. "I'm sorry."

"Annie, wait!" He was horrorstruck as he watched her walk away.

This time she did look back.

* * *

Cristina frowned. She was currently poised in front of the full-length mirror in the corner of her room staring at her blossoming frame. It had been over an hour since she brought up the courage to look at herself. She hadn't once moved.

She idly ran a finger over her exposed tummy, thinking. Honestly, the fact that there was something _growing_ in there was a little hard to wrap her mind around. Kids were great but she never pictured herself being a mother, especially not so early. She was _twenty-one_ for crying out loud! Definitely not the right age to get a family started. Maybe that was acceptable in her mother's day but not right now. People would think she was a slut or something.

Suddenly she grimaced. What on earth would her mother think when she found out? That was something she wasn't too eager to discover. Would she get disowned? Would her family throw her out on the street? No, they couldn't do that. She was with child. That would be morally wrong…Right?

God, she was pregnant! How could this be possible? Well, she knew _how_ she just wanted to know _why._ Ringo was a nice enough guy. But did she want to have his child? Lord, there was a junior Richard Starkey in her stomach right now. How crazy was that!

No one would believe her, which she was aware of. Her old obnoxious friends back home would think she was crazy. She could hear them now: _You're just an attention hungry whore who probably slept with the first guy who gave you a chance. Give it a rest._ She wasn't sure if she believed it either. If she had predicted she would be in this predicament she would have guessed it would be with one of the guys she took a liking to in her theater appreciation class. Certainly not a world famous drummer with dreamy blue eyes…

She groaned aloud. She had been so horrible to him. He told her he only wanted to help and make sure she got through this alright. But what had she done? She yelled at him. She really needed to stop hanging out with Annie. Part of her told her she didn't need Ringo's help in raising his child. A larger part told her that that was total bull and they both needed her, one more than the other. Which one, though, she couldn't tell until her nine months was up.

Ringo was a great guy. He was kind, sweet, charming, and everything she had hoped to find wrapped up in one amazing person. The fact that he was part of an amazing band was just the icing on the cake. But what did she really expect to happen once she decided she was keeping Ringo Jr. (she really needed a better name)? She couldn't have him give up his life to help with hers. Right now she needed time for herself so she could reevaluate a few things. Maybe one day she would change her mind and let him in. It wasn't love she felt towards Ringo but it was close enough. It killed her to think about leaving him.

But it had to be done.

Finally she brought herself to look away from the mirror at the sound of the front door banging open and shutting forcefully. She went towards the disturbance, her arms cradling her stomach lovingly.

"Annie?"

The redhead was shaking. That was never good. She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand before turning sad eyes on Cristina.

"How's little Ringo?" she asked.

"He/she's good. What happened?"

She waved away the question and sunk into the couch. "Do you still want to go home?"

Cristina nodded.

"I want to come with you."


	17. The End

_AN: Well, hello there. I sincerely apologize for the prolonged absence on this one but I'll admit I kind of gave up on this story. But I was inspired by those last few recent reviews to end this once and for all. I'm not sure I'm completely happy with the way this story came out so I MAY redo it if I have time during the summer, which is pretty much now for me...And may I point out this is the only story, besides oneshots, that I have completed? Bravo to me. Anyway, this chapter came out completely different than I had originally planned but here it is in all of its glory: the end of the dramatic saga that is The Day the Music Died!_

* * *

It had been over a year.

Or something like that. Paul had lost track of time after the first month or two of Annie's abrupt absence. He couldn't bring himself to dwell on the days for too long because, quite honestly, he had better things to do with his time. Like, for instance, one of the pretty extras from the Beatles' new movie.

He shook a cigarette from the near empty pack, absentmindedly placing it between readily parted lips. The taste of tobacco provided an empty comfort for suppressed feelings hiding deep down in places he couldn't reach even if he tried. That was why he drowned himself in his work, or in the bed of a young and willing girl. He wouldn't admit it to himself, of course, but there was a reason behind his risqué behavior and the sudden abrasiveness with his skyrocketing career. John was very clearly irked by his friend's condition but nothing he so blatantly said cured Paul of the bout.

Paul wandered aimlessly through deserted streets of an American city he couldn't quite remember in his current state. His mind was fogged with the stinging feel of bitter liquor in a dastardly attempt to force those feelings further down his subconscious. He was losing himself but he wasn't sure if he wanted to be found. Well, perhaps in the literal sense he did. He had not the slightest clue as to his whereabouts at the moment. In the metaphorical sense, however, he would much prefer to stay misplaced.

He had loved Annie, the moral part of his mind reminded him. And she had left without so little as a goodbye uttered from those lips he had kissed the night before. It stung, knowing she could just take off much like she had done years ago. That was why he was acting out and drowning his sorrows in the bottle. That was why he was a drunken mess in a foreign country. He had also taken to smoking, not just cigarettes, but something called cannabis the group had tried under the wing of their new friend Bob Dylan. Dylan was a strange bloke, he was, but he knew a thing or two of ways to numb the pain.

George and Ringo tried to talk some sense into him, explaining that Annie wasn't worth his time. If she couldn't bother with a goodbye then he shouldn't bother killing himself in misery. But Paul refused to listen to either of them because he knew they were heartbroken as well, both for different reasons. He felt worse for Ringo, though, because he had not only lost a girl but a child as well. Yes, he had moved on and recommitted himself to his relationship with Maureen but Paul knew he was still hurting.

At least he had gotten a letter from Cristina.

Paul (and George) had gotten absolutely nothing. Annie just disappeared without a trace, running back to her home in Florida. Paul had been on his way to see her when he found out. He had walked over to her flat, whistling a cheerful tune, only to discover the apartment completely empty. A neighbor across the way informed him that the tenants had clocked out a few hours ago.

Startled and highly confused, he walked over to Annie's childhood home. Maggie greeted him at the door but she did not return his kind smile. She stiffly informed him her sister was not there and closed the door before he could get a word in edgewise.

Worry slowly began weeding its way into his mind as he walked by to the recording studio. He caught John on a smoke break and told him of what he had discovered. John, for the first time in almost the entire history the two shared, looked slightly uncomfortable. Paul glared at him.

"She's gone, Paul," John informed him bluntly.

"What do you mean 'she's gone'?"

"She and Cristina went back to America."

"How do you know?" Paul demanded hotly.

"Cyn and I sort of accidentally caught them on their way to the airport." He smiled sheepishly. "Annie gave nothing away but you know Cris."

Paul growled in frustration and stormed inside the studio.

Now, he collapsed onto the rough pavement and leaned against a building with a sigh. The cigarette dangled carelessly from his lips, swaying slightly from his breathing. He couldn't understand why she had left. What purpose was there in simply disappearing? It wasn't like last time, when she poured her heart out and he rejected her. Now it seemed like the opposite; she hadn't rejected him then but by leaving, that was a clear sign of rejection, wasn't it? He placed the cigarette between two fingers and snubbed the fire in the ground, extinguishing the light and what little hope he had with it.

He couldn't love someone like Annie Holloway.

The next morning, he awoke to Brian Epstein yelling something at one of his friends. He winced slightly, feeling slightly disoriented as the effects of a major hangover washed over him. Knowing when a fellow Beatle was completely beside himself, John set the hotel room trash bin before Paul just as his stomach gave a nasty lurch.

"You're going to have hell to pay," John said with a sad shake of the head. "And I don't just mean the hangover."

"McCartney!" Brian shouted, rounding on him. "What is the meaning of this?"

Paul grimaced and nudged the foul bin away from him. "I'm fine, Brian."

"Fine? You're _fine_? You are most certainly _not_ fine! Far from it, if I am correct."

"Brian—" Paul whined.

"Don't you start! You are _hung over_. How could you do something as stupid as drink yourself silly the night before a major show?"

"Really, I'm fine." As if to betray his words, he found himself emptying the contents of his stomach in the bin once more.

Brian shot him an accusatory glare.

"I'm sorry," Paul sighed, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "I'll be fine in a few minutes."

"Is this about that Holloway girl?"

Paul flinched. "No."

"You're a terrible liar."

"Lay off, will you?" Ringo said in annoyance as he walked out of the bathroom, steam billowing behind him. "Just give him some time to readjust."

Brian opened his mouth to retaliate but then closed it, storming out of the room.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" George asked after Brian slammed the door.

"Don't you start," Paul snapped, struggling to stand without losing his balance.

John shoved a mug of coffee in his hands. "I feel like your mother," he joked, forcing Paul to take a sip. "It's spiked with rum, by the by."

"Are you _crazy_?" George questioned him in horror.

"A bit, yeah."

"Nah, he's got the right idea," Ringo said. "The best cure of a hangover is to drink a bit of what you had the night before."

Paul gingerly drank his concoction without another word.

The boys got ready for their concert with idle chatter and virtual silence from Paul. Ringo kept shooting him concerned glances but otherwise said nothing. When the time had come, the four plus Brian and the rest of those on tour with them dashed out into the mob of squealing girls into the awaiting car.

"Where are we again?" Paul whispered once the car was set in motion. He jumped back as someone banged on the window but offered a tentative smile and a wave.

"New York City," George informed him, trying not to laugh at his momentary forgetfulness.

"The city of sin," John said with a little smirk.

"That's Las Vegas," Brian sighed.

"Well, why don't we have a show there, then?"

He was met with a group eye roll.

"Right, well," Brian began, ignoring the question all together. "When the car stops, I want you all to follow Mal into the stadium. No stopping, just continue walking. Do you hear me?"

They nodded in agreement, poised to jump out of the vehicle and into their destination. The car rolled alongside a looming stadium that had them all staring up at it in wonder. No concert had ever been performed there before, they had been told. Paul looked up at the letters spelling out "Shea Stadium" with pride and accomplishment.

And suddenly, the car stopped.

"Go!" Brian urged.

With efficient haste, the Beatles exited the car and were rushing into the stadium. The sound of the roaring crowd nearly deafened Paul as he hurried to the entrance.

But that was when he heard it.

Someone was calling to him. The only reason he could decipher it from the cacophonous noise was because they weren't calling for _Paul_ – they were calling for _Jimmy_.

"What are you doing?" Ringo shouted when he noticed Paul stop. Paul gripped his wrist and turned them both to the sound. "Oh goodness," he whispered when he realized the significance.

"Jimmy!"

Paul wasn't sure whether to run screaming or to stay rooted on the spot. So he chose a gradual shift towards Shea Stadium. He watched, absolutely baffled, as a little redheaded girl ran with all her might towards him, only to be stopped by security.

"No, it's all right!" he heard himself tell them. "She's with us."

The girl blew a raspberry in the face of the nearest guard and continued sprinting towards him, a big toothy grin on her face. She threw her arms around his waist and Paul tentatively returned the embrace, picking her up off of the ground and burying his face in her hair.

"Maggie, I've missed you," he admitted honestly.

"You have?" she gasped, pulling back to smile at him again. "Oh, I've missed you too!"

"Who are you here with?" Ringo asked, taking his turn to hug her tightly. "And why, if you don't mind me asking, did you call Paul 'Jimmy'?"

She shrugged her tiny shoulders. "I'm here with them." They shifted their gaze to two women rushing after little Maggie, frowns painted on their faces. The expressions only changed when they caught sight of who she was with.

"Who're they?" Paul asked.

"Sarah and Bethany," Maggie answered, motioning for the strangers to join her. "They were watching me for Annie."

"Maggie, your sister will be horribly upset you ran off like that!" One of the women, Sarah, called. "You know better!"

"But I don't," Maggie replied with a grin. Then she turned to Ringo and Paul. "Shouldn't you two be going inside? I'm sure Mr. Epstein will be horribly upset."

They exchanged a glance, both clearly confused. "She's right," a voice said from behind them. Brian grabbed their arms and yanked them with him. "It's lovely to see you again, Maggie."

"Bye boys!" the girl waved as she watched them go off. Paul glanced over his shoulder, watching her become consumed by the crowd. He was not sure what to make of this.

/

Going against his better judgment, Paul left the safety of the hotel to stand by the glimmering pool later that night. He felt recharged after that electric performance. Sure, the sound could have been so much better but he was sure that concert was one for the history books. He chuckled as he remembered John playing the keyboard with his elbows during "I'm Down". It had been an incredible night.

"You shouldn't be out here."

Startled, he turned to the voice, his heart sinking miserably as he identified who it belonged to. There, leaning against the gate surrounding the perimeter of the pool area, was a vivacious redhead smoking a cigarette caught between two red-painted smirking lips. Paul watched in silence as she clasped the cigarette between two fingers with a close precision, her green eyes never leaving his. Slowly, tauntingly, she eased open the gate and approached him. When she was nearly five short steps from him, she stopped, taking a moment to pull a drag from the cigarette.

"What are you doing here?" Paul asked, coming to his senses.

She exhaled a puff of smoke, smirking again. "I could ask you the same thing."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

Paul glared at her. She laughed dryly.

"I was here first – in New York, anyway. I have every right to be here. The only thing you've got going for you is being a Beatle."

Paul couldn't help but feel insulted. He scoffed and made to leave. Something was nagging at him, though. Turning to face her again, he demanded, "Why did you come here? To apologize for leaving?" When she said nothing, he shook his head and gave a humorless chuckle. "You're a horrible person, you know that?"

"Not any better than you."

He was not just shocked by the words, but also the lack of emotion they held. She continued staring at him curiously and he grew more discomforted by the minute. "What do you want, Annie?"

"Honestly? I don't know." She put out the smoldering stick with the toe of her boot. "I thought coming here to see you would give us both some sort of closure, I guess."

"Closure? That's what this is about?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You obviously need it. I heard what you've been getting yourself into, McCartney."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't mean to sound shallow or anything but we all know the reason you've been drinking so much lately. I'm not dumb, Paul."

"You could've fooled me," he spat.

Her lips twitched slightly. "You think you can get the better of me with your harsh words and wit? Go on, Paul. Tell me what you really think of me. Maybe it'll make us both feel better."

Paul just gave her an _Are you crazy _look.

She shook her head slightly. "Everyone's a bit crazy, don't you think? If we were all normal the world would be a terribly boring place."

He heaved a great sigh. "I don't need this right now, Annie. I've got to get up early tomorrow to catch a plane to Canada and…I just don't need this."

"You could've left at any minute, Paul – I'm not holding you here."

Anger suddenly flared inside of him like a raging bull. "You want to know what I think of you? All right, then. I think you're a bitch. You are the biggest bitch I've ever met in my entire life. You go around throwing this snotty attitude in everyone's face like they owe you something and when things don't go your way, no one is happy. Then you go whore yourself out to anyone that will pay you attention to compensate for the fact that you had a ruddy childhood. And you like to lead guy's on when you really only wanted one person. But that goes back to the bitch thing and we're beyond that. You're also a bloody coward! The first sign of something that requires just a bit of courage and you run like hell for the first plane to America."

He hadn't realized that as he ranted on, he had come quite close to her. Still, he continued, thrusting an accusatory finger in her blank face. "How could you do that to me, Annie? I tell you how I feel and you just run! And you take Cristina with you. Do you have any idea how horrible Ringo felt afterwards? And another thing—"

He was suddenly silenced by her standing on tiptoe to place her lips on his. He poured all of his pent-up emotions into the kiss, leaving her effectively breathless.

"And another thing," he persisted, breathing heavily. "I hate that I love you so much." He also hated how weak he suddenly sounded but he didn't dare voice that.

She nodded vaguely, probing his eyes for something he was not quite sure of. "I made Cris go see Ringo today," she finally said. "She brought over Samuel."

"Samuel?"

"Her little boy. It's good that Rich sees him but there's not much to be done for him and Cristina; he's got his own family now. And Lord knows how Maureen will feel about Sam."

Paul hummed in agreement. "Annie?"

She sighed and tiredly rubbed at her eyes. "I'm sorry, Paul. For everything. I really mean it."

"The thing is, Ann, I suppose I can forgive you. But I'm not sure I can forget. Any of it."

"I know that," she agreed. "I know I've hurt a lot of people and I'm trying to be a better person by apologizing. But how many are willingly going to do the same for me?"

"I already have."

She ticked off a number on her hand. "Well, that's one down."

He smiled but then frowned. "What does this mean?"

She groaned. "Why does it have to mean something? Can't you just live in the moment?"

Paul relaxed the grip he had unknowingly had on her waist. "It doesn't work that way, Annie. I can't get into something without knowing the consequences."

"I'm sorry Paul, but I don't know that."

He shifted from foot to foot, uncertainty descending upon the pair. "I love you, Annie, I really do."

"I've never stopped loving you," she said gently.

"But I don't know where to go from here."

"Can't we just see where it goes?" she asked, suddenly sounding as weak as he felt.

"I-I don't know."

"Paul, please," she almost begged. "I didn't give up on you for all of those years and I'm not going to give up on you now. Is this about Jane?"

He bit his lower lip, pondering the situation. "She's part of the problem, I suppose. But she knows how I feel."

When he did not appear ready to elaborate she frowned and pulled another cigarette from her pocket. "You're killing me," she said after taking a drag.

"Not as fast as those things are."

She shot him a glare. "Not funny."

"I wasn't trying to be."

Annie threw her hands up in frustration. "I've been good for months and have barely cursed at all but you make me want to start again."

He suddenly seized her by the waist and kissed her once more. She gazed up at him curiously, fighting a smile that was threatening to escape. "Here's to our uncertain future?" he said, stealing the cigarette from her hand.

"Here's to our uncertain future," she settled, wrapping her arms around him with a content grin.


End file.
